Cyne - 400 Years Revisited lyrics

[Verse 1: Akin Yai] I was told about it. Young freedom fighter seeking soul asylum They call him Marcus Garvey, wants to start this Soldier boy's quest to bless the land of heartless man He had a kind of self first. Yo, the plan demand Action. My resolution with the MAC-10 People don't react ‘til you actually start blasting That's when the co*kier media start asking Saying, “Who's this kid with the Garveyite fashion?” You could be down with the brown or Anglo-Saxon Throw your fist in the air for slave caster Militant mind stay converted, brave past his time I ain't asking for shine ‘cause people owe me That's why these young thugs rub blood so holy Now they hate to see this: mercenaries out for Jesus Live from the pearly white gates, about to squeeze. Does Godly back Confederate flags? I'm held hostage No forty acres, a mule—abused profits With no forty acres, a mule—abused profits [Hook: Blak Lungz] (x2) For 400 years we shed tears When it's d**h among peers, we pour beers. But now what? Just look what the world made me: enslaved me But at the end, yo, what the f**'s gonna save me? [Verse 2: Cise Star] Standing in front of monuments that are placed in prestigious colleges Presenting they grace but yet racist to the obvious Factor: light skin to the hues of blacker shades Of face. I chase my dreams in the shadow of hate Battle, debating, I'm moving at a radical rate Must I hide my face just to f**ing relate? Wait. The invisible man with divisible plans Could visualize lies, shackling both hands [Hook: Blak Lungz] (x2) For 400 years we shed tears When it's d**h among peers, we pour beers. But now what? Just look what the world made me: enslaved me But at the end, yo, what the f**'s gonna save me? [Verse 3: Blak Lungz] Fulfill a mission ‘cause I'm feeling like we're still in bondage Half a millennium, my moment where I'm thinking homage And there's a clarity, a vision in this rat race Tackle our shackles to erase names with no face Strategy placed in a single word to free the mind Designing rhymes for the eyes of my people blind In any attempt, feeble or not, sh** Sorry to say I wish Bush would get shot—bla! Hock these words that I spit. Intense Contempt ripped with borderline hatred for the cowardice Powers that be control the powerless beings With the money that we never see, so we could never be [?] had us trapped here for four score Plus four hundred more. I had to move on this World War Any excuse, come blast [forth?] with gats, drop the gas On they a** so the ma**'ll get the last laugh