I get deep from within my heart, where it bleeds out my sorrow, wondering if I’ll be judged and put to death tomorrow. Tried, lied on, wrongly convicted by the media, and jurors who weren’t of my peers, so they won’t try and can’t understand, fighting for rights, justice and equal opportunity is the struggle of the black man. On this deadly voyage (a reincarnation of the Trans Atlantic Slave trade disguised as a Justice System) I’ll travel alone, to reclaim my kingdom on the African throne.
My shield and spear, demolishes and fear, sharp and strong, made of steel. The beats of the drums are my heart beat and will.
My will to survive this system allows my spirit to have no mercy in this war; I’ll destroy my oppressors and aggressors like they destroyed my ancestors.
Strength, beauty, veracity, spirit and struggle, compelling myself not to hesitate when its time to juggle.
The balance of life or death, pressure from being held captive all these years have made me a sacred diamond of wealth.
I’ll approach this battle slowly with caution, like a black panther stalking prey; I see the vultures and hyenas lying in the wait. But I can’t or won’t make any mistakes.
I am on the move, like a train with no breaks.
I am in the belly of the United Snakes beast, it’s dark and cold down here, with no fire, I must serve this knowledge on the raw.
Using my third eye, and street smarts of an out law.
Making my markings from the warrior within, my journey and struggle is the life in its realist manifestation of all Afrikans.
Excerpt from „Hard Knocks old school“ by Gregory Tate aka Camara