| I Am An African :: Abas Idris |
| What does it mean today to truly be an African? We the seeds of the first people, but none of us is trackin’ em. I’m asking then, what are the true traits of our people? We smile in each others faces, but our real feelings aren’t so equal We come from a land where man began; But instead of joining hands, We destroy each others plan, in pursuit of the American dream. See the dream is really a nightmare, cuz it strips you of your culture. While we reach for that American eagle, we lose our nafss to the vultures. See, I’m tired of melodramatic voices Making fanatic choices that affect me and all of my rights No more European books; Or giving the forefathers a second look Only truth will be told when I’m holding the mic Now my palms might be sweaty But I think that I’m ready to tell the world Africa’s more than spears and empty bellies We are a legacy of leaders and chiefs, with customs and beliefs Now our people need our help, so we have a duty to bring relief I’m talking about making Fitsula our number one mission I’m talking about Haile Selassie before they made him a religion A vision, a vision of people who bring the thunder from within And look under they skin, to see that our souls are one Our people stood for freedom, even though they beat them Plus the enemy was holding guns We have children who look like me, who are expected to die at three Cuz infected with HIV, and I’m told I should be taking it lightly No, see I have a mission, I’m wishing, I could be fixing the system. A system that’s built, trying to diminish my vision. See I’m a Nubian prince; and I’m using my sense, to understand the situation for what it is In America we got fathers who won’t man up So they put our boys in hand cuffs, And now we got parents against their kids Now my dark skin is sparking emotions in my heart and brain I know we must stand together and withstand the weather Because there will be sunshine after the rain As a member of a lost tribe, I remember men who lost wives And children who grew up with no mothers As we banning together, I will never forget my elders And always stay true to my brothers So since I can’t be in the mother land, I’m a take my brothers hand And make him understand, that I am an African I try to stay aware like the streets be, wearing a gabi or a dashiki As MTV tries to trick me, I yell, stop I am an African See I’m proud of my rough hair, and I don’t give a damn where I’m a scream it through the air, I am an African All I ask now is that with my dying breath, while I’m lying next to death, I can still say with full heartedness’ that I am an African And for those who won’t be clappin, cuz they don’t like what we rappin, I stay tough cuz we are here to stay I see unity in the distance, and we can have freedom in an instance, So all my Africans make way. |
phantasmag0ria
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