Verse 1:

This the final straw, the guns are drawn. The wound’s too deep to scar
No triumph songs when we’re mid-war. Blood red, white feather, black tar
Cherokee, Choctaw, Blackfoot, Seminole
On a trail of tears to a new frontier, Black cowboys - Yeehaw

We’ve been here before. Sailed the seas guided by the stars
Gatekeepers, opening doors. Tomb builders, ancient explorers
Black sun. Gold daughters. Cell blocks new slave quarters
Jailbirds and Black farmers planting seeds on block corners

Scared crow call the beast on us, put the heat on us but we alchemists
Stir in they belly - won’t feast on us, nor sleep on us. We spin gold from this
And platinum, this for BLAK and them. Born Lord And King is the acronym
Black, Black, Black and all its synonyms. Sea salt, cayenne and cinnamon

I sip righteous rage with my juice and gin. Burn the sage, uncap the pen
Tattoo the page so I can free my kin. If it ain’t forward it’s back again
Black/Black again on the track again. Jackie Joyner for the race I’m in
Black Panther in a world of mice and men. Stay awake for Breonna ain’t no sleeping in


Transcription from Nikki Giovanni In Conversation with James Baldwin, 1971

JB: And it's very hard to recognize that the standards which have almost killed you are really mercantile standards. They're based on cotton; they're based on oil; they're based on peanuts; they're based on profits.

NG: To this day.

JB: To this hour… It's when you begin to realize all of that, which is not easy, that you begin to break out of the culture which has produced you and discover the culture which really produced you. Do you see what I mean?

NG: Yes.

JB: What really brought you to where you are… What it's all about is the attempt now to excavate something that has been buried. Something you contain and I contain and which your kid contains… Something one has to hand down the line for the sake of your kid and for the sake of future generations, and even for the sake of white people, who have not the remotest idea what this means.



Verse 2:

This for liberation like Passover. Remembering all that’s been passed over
Step forward. Step closer. But learn from the past - that’s Sankofa
This invocation of our dead soldiers, fire light when the griot’s spoken
The blade charged when it carves the totem. This the fear of God like the preacher told us

This for constellations and quilt patterns, for pig guts and bread batter
For light beings and dark matter. This the Afro future on Mars and Saturn
So saddle up, time to settle up. Chop it down ‘for we level up
Burn it down now to ash and soot. This for fertile soil turning underfoot

This for old ways under new moons. Planting seeds when the blood moves
Record players riding deep grooves. This for Howlin’ Wolf and the Lightnin' tunes
This Blacks and The Blues. These raps for the wounds. This herbs for the brew
Ain’t no “Rest in Peace”, ain't been restful sleep since we napped in the womb

The Christ is risen. The lotus blooms. From pitch black, muddy roots
This for back doors lead to back rooms. We’ve forgotten more than we ever knew
This for making way, for making do. With a washboard and a pair of spoons
With a plot of land and a pair of mules. Trauma transformed and we forging tools