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lirik lagu 400 years – cyne


i’m p-ssing god’s conception
approaching near the land deception
adjust the mirror, in my rearview i see reflection
at times my highways lead to bleak direction
so i seek confession speaking to beats
i call it resurrection cause i got my soul back
some call me pro black
really i’m just playing my part i could’ve sold crack
it’s not for me
my old man thought of prophecy
kwame nkrumah’s vision live in my odyssey for real
but not your homer in greek mythology
akin devise schemes to conquer this trickology
the time is now to forsake the faking
i’m freedom in the making
god’s kitchen chef rock a frigid apr-n
ayo, for 400 years we shed tears
and when it’s death among peers we poor beers
look what the world made me, enslaved me
but at the end what the f-ck is gonna save me?
my pulse quickening as my heart became a simile
i drift into the reaches of self, i felt panicky
hoping for anarchy, liberation from this insanity
tears running down my cheek hit the canopy
wall of self doubt, shout scream and wail
at the pain coursing through my being i’m in a h-ll of thought
caught between a rock and hard place
my personal sp-ce violated catching a case
i can even taste the bittersweet smell of defeat
i’m feeling the heat of blood running down in the street
then look where i stand
my shadow is the trace of a man
that endured the hardships, formulating a plan
system ridiculous they fabricate lies now i’m sick of this
like people with syphilis still trying to cripple this will
revolution rap attack pope nicholas, chill, don’t ever tell me that
lies, they try to sell me that
your evolution get aborted
let it be known i don’t condone thrones in rome
call it prejudice, i sever this mic with a poem
folks will hate to see this and mercenaries out for jesus
live from the pearly white gates about to squeeze
is godly bad? confederate flags i’m held hostage
no forty acres and mule abused profits
no forty acres and mule abused profits
i’m breaking these shackles they got me chained away from my liberty
look at the history how they treated us through the centuries
like inanimate animals only given annual holidays
representin’ hardships we endure today
what the f-ck we getting comfortable now
looking like clowns while industry is taking our crowns
and tarnishing our soul
trading our worth for platinum and gold
our souls are undersold, for what?
semiprecious pieces of metal value changing with time
open your eyes we need to rise
open your eyes we need to rise
open your eyes we need to rise