Mama Africa, We’re Coming Home

Ignite a fire in their bones

Mama Africa, we’re coming home

Segregated in 2018 yet we are not alone

When I spit these words, I’m in my zone

I don’t bust coverages, just your expectations

Master of standard English this ain’t my nation

Police officers killing our people, but I found a revelation

In the confrontation of the blood I remain in the station

I can’t escape black skin, and the stains attached

Our people are a stain to you, whites have tried to put a match to it

But I can escape your entitlement

Never content with contempt or chains

Put us in the back of the bus

Push us down to the South

Squeeze us into row homes

Punch us into prison cells

But I don’t forsake my calling, the anger causes me to swell

Studying the stares, recording the stalled reactions, to which I declare you’re not well

Not comfortable with my presence

My boiling blood fuels our essence

The spirit of T’Challa is within

The strength of King is within

The revolution of Barack is within

I am the next generation

And I come with thunder

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