Field Negus

I am a field negro now

Exodusing from these wretched plains

Pour holy palm wine, wash away this wasted shame

Blood is thicker than cotton or sugar cane

I don't think you're ready for the pain

I don't think you're ready for the change, mate

You are a field negro too, son

Leave Candace Owens by the plantation

Foolish us, thinking the overseer even had the keys to these chains

How could we expect the dungeon keeper to make the rules and play fair this game?

Oh, bless your greed

For not granting me the little I asked of you

I would have played the fiddle and tap-danced for you

I would have settled for some skittles and a safe path home

Tightened up my belts

Lightened-up my skin

Bitten down my tongue

I begged you for an inch

Lemme have some liquor and a flatscreen

A minute for my mind, scraps for my sandwich

You had me saying

Prayers in your language

You made me forget my gods

You had me question my spirits

Forsake my prophets and

Then you cursed me with

Trevor Philips

Oh, the pale-faced, cheek of it

One knee on my back, one knee on my lungs

Telling me to run sprint times on a marathon

Keep calm and carry on

Oh, the audacity

The caucasity of it all

Thank you

For refusing me that inch

Because now I do not recognise your yardstick

The scales have toppled

The curtains have collapsed

The blonde baboon's arse is bare in the open

And I am a field negro now

I do not want your equality

It was never yours to give me

And even then it was too minor, too little, too late

Pull the balaclava over my heart and set it running

My revolution rides a black horse and it is stunning

Get me my flowers

Shower their petals over my escape route

Molotov cocktails as my banner

Skull and crossbones as my skin tone

Babylon burn down is my jam, mate, it's my ringtone

We are rolling your monuments down the street like tobacco

Tossing your effigies into the river, they weren't even worth a pyre

Let me show you what you've taught me about crime

Forget a piece, we want the whole pie and the 'Everything Must Go' sign

We are all field negroes now, just dead the talk, get me my bag

Maybe one day we'll see eye to eye on fancy furniture

But right now though, right now though, sorry not sorry, #burnitall

Just burn it all