The battle of a decaying culture

The battle of a decaying culture(I want to be me)

We are children of Afri-ca,
we shouldn't be afraid of Caucasians,
for it's been many a day still our fingers stuck on triggers,
from those trick stars that reaped us off in bright day.
took our glitz and glamour and left us to lay in hay,
and for our gold and ivory, we were handed arms,
as many of your arms were used to make their dams
They called it barter trade truth is all they spread was batter,
and left us fighting and killing our own brothers,
Pity, pity now we're running like Guinea pigs on a wheel,
we're fifty years behind and competing with our own race,
contracted to slavery like we're living in the past,
on a crush course journey for an unwritten plan.
such decadence! We're losing cultural preference,
as our innocence and dignity decay and erode for irrelevance.

It's no wonder they got US dressing u.s and u.k
But oui! we should look for a Puk,
unlock their BS and clad in fresh AK,
call it African class gunned by their Ak's,
Inflicted into believing we're dumb as they say,
so we grow up with our memory stored in cache
then they sell all their Western - Chinese shit,
third hand consumers and still it's the best there is,
numb to creativity we're living like blocks,
tuned to thinking about using force through glocks
Yet for our actions we just end up behind locks.
akin to the innocent with hair tied in knots
so this is for my deadlock brothers-
cutting off identity, just so they can fit in,
and also to those people forging accents trying to fit in.
To some it's nothing, yet we're losing all we are
And it hurts so bad that without Gps or final destination,
we're still riding on this wagon

I just want to be me,
an African born in great Africa- (me)
I don't want to be just another replica- (me!)
I just want to be a real black star- (me!)
an African born in great Africa (me)
I just want to be me,