[Verse]
They said the Lord's coming, but it's been two thousand years
Shadow of the ghost, the shade of the cloak or veneer
And I'm following in the chorus of the crowd of the mutineers
The leader of the pack is a stuge and a puppeteer
The feeder of the lack, the vipers and the propheteers
Career fine as is, shapeshifters and racketeers
Heard the child recite the words of a killer's prayer
Blame the children for being the victims to the marketeers
It's strange how a drug dealer richer than the pastor
The church scolding the woman holding the alabaster
The poor told to wait, wait for the life after
The rich dying in laughter, the style of a ringmaster
Any man has got the capability of being a bastard
Until they figure out why they're not inside a casket
Divine spirit went from the shrine of Kamikaze
As an answer to a call on a bomb of Nagasaki
They said Kanye's ready to represent the faith
It's kinda naive 'cause everybody's sin takes the cake
And seems kinda strange how everybody's got a stake
Saying the world's gonna end
And Theo's eyes' got the shades
I'm trying to see the full-colour spectrum of the moon
I'm casting dice for a luck in the middle of noon
Afraid of the cause of history when they raid the tomb
Deja vu like something I've seen on my radar lume
Still figuring out what it is I gotta do now
Feel like a stranger, like arriving in a new town
The streets colder than dry ice
Supply price, life is cheaper
When a mother dies for you, that's a high price
Feel kinda heavy like something needed to carry me
Still got a penny from a thought that burned the calorie
I found something but it took something away again
A trade that hit hard like a needle in the vein
You've seen how everybody lowers expectations
Nothing good can come from anything without an education
The axis of the hatred built in segregation
Second-guessing everything nobody's celebrating
My sign is ancient, before Faba Luba
I'ma stand high, win like the Basilica's overbridge is
I'm Afro-future, the Zambian Space Program
The source of the words reaching the politics of Kotang
Red, blue, gold to the Congo
Sifted with bare hands, making the world connect
From here to Chicago
Morocco to Moscow, Santiago to Toronto
From the belly of Africa, spread like the gospel
Like the son, man speak again
[?]
Out of the body, ancient well memory haunt
Poured like the water in a baptismal font
A savant of a different kind, music for commandants
It's a time for a reckoning, the soul needs a home
But the silence is deafening and pain is a megaphone
Rousing a deaf world 'cause its people are tethered
Then start off the next world in search for the remnants
It should be the known old ordinary people
Who beheaded the beast in the jungle as the heroes
The picture changes when money and power or the ego
A land of the people is a place
Where debris thrown at the stage of wasted human potential
That stays on lingering, follows a vicious circle
Injury infested, known malicious title
No, it's pestering and spinning in a downward spiral
I hitched a ride, the driver said to me that we must suffer
Cabin cruising at an altitude chaperoned like a butler
I sat down
It's kinda hard to accept that anything can happen
In the line, you could be next
[Outro]
We gon' figure this out
Tell my people we gon' figure this out
We gon' figure this out
Tell my people we gon' figure this out
We gon' figure this out
...people we gon' figure this out
We gon' figure this out
About to figure this out
