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African King Fre$h

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Put down your axe
Put down your hoe or your pik
My throat's parched and frankly I am sick
And tired of having my back lashed like I don't Matter
Don't shush me
I'm serious this ain't no empty chatter
In the dead of the night me and my brothers plan ta
Carry out schemes based on dreams of killing Massa
While he's dead asleep
In the bedroom next to Nana
Go in, slit his throat and disappear in the savanna
I hear the dogs barking in the distance as we scatter
And then the bullets flying there's no telling where they landing
Wake up!
This ain't 1860
You're not somebody's chattel get with me

Coz back the day we was slaves whips and chains
And nowadays all we pursue is whips and chains
Word to Killa Cam
Let me talk some sense in your brain
Either
We are advanced or ain't shit changed
Ever since you can remember
There's always something they try to sell ya
To make you feel that you ain't no failure
Lifestyle, clothing brands
Make you legit
In your mind
In they mind you still ain't shit
We used scrape they fields
Using rakes and piks
Now we can't go out to dinner without taking a pic
Just ta
Make you forget
You ain't rich and dying with less
Our countries owned by IMF
And World Bank leaders
They shank us and they beat us with conditions Have our own businesses folding like a fetus
But you'd never tell
By how nicely that they treat us
They're feedin us so they can eat us
Now eat up

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