Mu Maaso awo (in front there\in our eyes)

Mu Maaso awo (in front there\in our eyes)

Rubaga, Nsambya, Mengo, mulago,

Ug is the new baby boomers home,
Ayeh, we are producing poverty
What worries me is there's minimal opportunity for our ill trained mentalities
We Import three times more than we export,
Records say a quarter of our exports are cheeyo,
The remainder is what we signed agreements never to add value to,
so we borrow money just to reinvest in imports, and retain perpetual debt

Tubilabila mu maaso awo

Kamocha, Munyonyo, Muyenga, Kololo, bugolobi

Since anchor families of different nationalities run the country,
We've become minorities watching our coaches play hard ball on home ground,
And we are an audience with the excitement of a kivulu.
We get carried away by trivial things failing to see the bigger picture.
The power struggles are our  entertainment,
the top guns run the show so we're short of options,
So we cling onto people power because of fleeting hope,
And if you speak to the masses most of them don't really understand what they want.

Tubilabila mu maaso awo

Awo ku Parliament, state house, nku kirira NY govumenti

Having failed to dictate our own ideology,
we adopted westernised capitalism so power and money
zisigala mu bagaga baffe abayindi na bachina naye bameka abakimanyi?
So they script that we're entrepreneurial
but we don't really know how to do business,
our businesses are not in production
We sell imported clothes and boda, and add no value to our produce,
So how do we compete in this fourth revolution?

Tubilabila mu maaso awo

Iganga, Ibanda, kotido, mubende

Some roads have been made owaye, the bypass' and highways are commendable
Abasoga twafunye bridge, batunooma nti tusika chapatti,
It's steady progress if you ask me,
Ayeh, ownership is going to be reverted back to those we contracted,
So with corruption embedded in the system,
our credit loans  are impossible to finance and sustain,
And any change of hands won't make a difference,
when the change we need to make is from within

Tubilabila mu maaso awo...

Industrial area, namanve, katwe, kasese

Canneries are literally pouring out of the skies,
We're just too distracted to understand why,
We have Turkish in our salt, Indians in our cotton, Arabs in our gold, British in our oil, Chinese in our coffee, & and no Ugandan to stand in and halt.
Our debt burden and dead aid has given way for our take over, Ayeh;
we're too busy listening to leg over to fathom the weight of the burden on our shoulders.
We're the third poorest country; it's alarming,
and with communism advancing in stealth,
a lot of us are bound to end up in bidukulu.

Kampala, mbarara, karamoja, iganga

There's a disperity between the economic mainstream,
the poor-Urban and the rural-rural ,
Information is asymmetric so many are stuck in a matrix,
Knowledge is available but still some have no access,
While some think they know it all, it eludes them.
The major similarity is that money is the major motivation,
So it's no wonder some of our leaders still let us get plundered,
Ayeh, What's the difference between them and the poor?
Those out there selling rich land only to become oppressed squatters

Tubilabila mu maaso awo,

Kiryandongo, Rwamwanja, bidi bidi abagenda,

The man is talking peace and stability maybe you don't see it,
Well open up your eyes can't you see the refugees
This man has got a lot of knowledge up there where he sits,
But you can't guarantee the work that's carried out by your team,
That's why the foundation of our nation was infested by greed
I don't know if you agree but its the reason why his vision went right off of its heels.
So you've got to be careful who fills that vacuum he leaves

Tubilabila mu maaso awo,

Muje tugende tuyuta ku Kampala road

Banks are getting digitally challenged, non performing assets are at their highest,
Our currency is going down south and we can only watch as IMF toys with our interest rates,
Our economies were designed to be divided and provided with help,
So we have a long way before we can dictate our own fate.
Yet still most of us aren't wide awake,
We're laying under our trees, eyes fast asleep. mouths wide open indulging in our blessed abundance,
but the works of our hands aren't counter acting we're about to get out of balance.

Owaye conductor, mu maaso awo,
Nze kanji vvemu

Figures/ number game

Figures/ number game

It seems like all our life all we do is play the numbers game,
The sperm that swims the fastest  after its been shot wins first place,  collides with its mate and turns into a zygote, hibernates and fully forms.
After 9months, it's  an honor to have you,  a
nd the clock starts counting it's- numbers
you're  squealing,  You probably know all you're  going to be doing in this seemingly forsaken place is chase after misery
Ayeh, everyone else around you is rejoicing.
Luckily  you can't see them so you carry  on  un wavered like a rock so they rock  you, soothe you until  you  stop, and the game continues...

A couple of months down the road
it's your first birth day,
and  from zero you all over sudden turned hero,
they celebrate you,  you've now been seduced  and have come to terms with certain things,
You enjoy  the sweeter things of life, cake,  attention, care and what not.
You go through  baby , middle,  and top class,  then back into the numbers system: P1,
and the game continues.

You're handed report  cards,
assessed by the numbers,
You're posessed by the numbers,
Some don't care about the numbers,
Some don't make it through  because they don't  understand the numbers,
Some never make it in  because  back at home they are low on the numbers.

Down the road you climb up the scholar levels,
The numbers there are much more frustrating,
But those that didn't make it are trying to-
put two and two together  to make it but the numbers just don't add up.
Little do you know about the outside  world,
you're  just eager to count- figures, you can't wait to mature,
your heart has been triggered, induced by sweet numbers,
Never to realise that once you're set free,
the numbers don't lie, and your clock is ticking,
and the game continues...

 You've  graduated , the social  pressure is on,
if you're  not careful it turns you on,
You start to act queer just to keep it together,  you figure,
That  a nice set clothes will get you up and going and stack you up  on your  followers,
You like the views, the numbers tell you  truths that in reality aren't true but they keep you astute,
you're feeding your ego but little do you know that you're going to face the legal - consequences,
You can put on a show that  social statistics don't  show;
Ayeh, if you're numbers  are truly low
there's  only just how far you can go before it blows,
and the game continues...

You're  just too old to be chasing social numbers,
Your  better half at home needs you to up your pocket numbers,
Your parents  think you're grown you should get your self together,
Your homies are moving  on you feel  slightly under the weather,
You start to ask your self whether you'll  keep up with the pressure of, chasing numbers before you start to wither...


So you get a job that's secure and pays okay- numbers,
Your boss has experience in his figures and figures,
He should milk you out as your superior to up his numbers,
You're now a slave at best but you hang in there because you need  those numbers.
Your kids  are growing older,  you forgot how it started,
so you make them climb the same ladder.
You're too bothered by the outside world  to make them better travellers,
And the game continues...

Your clocks run out,  you should have know that when it got to twelve,
you remember how all you wanted was to grow older,
you forgot to live because  you were busy chasing numbers,
You were Stacking  up on accolades pumped up by minute made instead of drinking fresh lemonade...

Now it's  November, you lost the fight to cancer, it made your numbers plunder, your family  starts to wonder, where you're  at down as you slumber, does your good outweigh your slander, don't  be out there chasing numbers, live right don't live for others,  fulfill your life with purpose 'fore you  head back to the one...

  

Empty

I won't leave you,
In this hopeless world alone,
I won't leave you,
To be stranded on your own,
I will heal you,
When you're feeling all alone,
I won't let you,
Drown in sorrows of the world.

I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you,
I'll be there for you.
I'll be there for you...

What do you do when the world has got you feeling empty?

One minute you're up floating like a balloon,
The next it's pop, you're a joke house; red bums on a baboon

Life is like the moon, full of seasons,
And mine has been twilight seemingly bright but unfortunately upside down

My family has tried to keep me grounded despite my ill relationship with gravity that keeps toying with me,

It has me up so high then back down so the struggles never over, I'm still trying to emulate my idols so I'm never idle

I'm pushing the throttle but the hustle gets me puzzled  waiting on a dream wondering if that's all it will ever be...

And while you're at it, the world keeps moving at a tremendous speed so fast your body disagrees you start to bleed

You'd like to be of use to those in need but everything's bleak you're that friend atalina work, the one dodging bills

So you console yourself that broke isn't forever and hell's for eternity so to reign over your sanity you stay true to you,

But who you are is a mess, you're a positive litmus test for a sinner at his best yet before the rest you're a "saint."

What do you do when the world has got you feeling empty?

You get employed but you start to feel like misery has been deployed at your door demanding of you like a landlord,

Ayeh, not many have your job but boy oh boy are you annoyed, your boss keeps treating you like a useless toy,

And you're thinking you can't take it anymore but the world is hungry and ready to swallow you if you let go,

So you eight to five, diligently make it to work on time and like the rest you try to be grateful for your miserable life...

What do you do when the world has got you feeling empty?

Sometimes its hard to be grateful. I'm prayerful but I can't help but feel like God's own handpicked musoga fool

So it often feels like I'm a set up; a tool he uses for his jokes oh so cruel and I have the world entertained by my pain.

I'm not a fun of cars, shoes, clothes and jewels, I'm a simple person but I'd like to walk into a showroom and not drool...

it's even harder in a world where we have to burry our insecurities and flex on the gram like we have no worries.

So we're out here trying to create new revenue streams ayeh, we still treak home from our gigs and live like our tax bills are late.

I can't even afford love, I can't pay for a  date. So my potential lover is telling me I'm late and how long must she wait?

Man enough?

Man enough?

Sometimes I ask myself if I'm enough,
I'm a gentleman, is that man enough?
I cook, clean, do dishes and mow lawns,
Open doors, buy flowers, yadda yadda,
thing is, I'm not going to pick a fight,

I'm a flipping coward; a mama's boy,
Yet I'm always home alone like culkin,
And mothers always been on the go,
And I can barely speak on phone,
But I say so because I'm her last born.

So am I man enough?

Maybe my height has me doubtful,
but it has never really phased me,
I'll tell you why I'm so damn certain,
I always tell myself if I get into a fight,
It should be with a guy twice my size.

Small torpedo, big balls, call me kahuna, that's a wise man in Hawaiian lingo,
So if it's not my height, maybe my nose,
A close friend of mine calls me kingo,
It'd piss me off and make me feel small,

But never have I ever felt so handsome,
Like look at me, yo. I could sell ugly!
Let's be honest, nobody wanna buy that,
You can be body ugly but your heart,
That shit should look like red roses.

So am I man enough?

Maybe it's cause I have daddy issues,
But it's the 21st century; everybody does, and I'm all grown I see all fifty shades,
So paps is doing his thing, and here I am
Bada bing bada bang, problem solved.

I guess its cause I have no day job,
No job means no money that's tricky!
Meet me I'll say shit about to pop off,
But nobody wants to pay for poetry,
And I didn't go to school to study music,

So I have no career and limited skill,
I think we have ourselves a winner,
But nah, I'm patient and it pays off,
So am queued up come rain come shine,
I'll be at the office dancing on my turn.

So am I man enough?

Maybe how I tie my towel is queer,
Sometimes I roll it up here and its weird, my old consort used to take a crack at it,
But now so do I, it's an ingrained habit,
I have seven sisters, I used rock skinnies

And It can't possibly be cause I'm timid,
I'm a writer, gators aren't thick skinned,
But as an artist I'm definitely sensitive,
Maybe that's it but that doesn't cut it,
Expecting love from all is a fatal feat!

You know as a yungen I was way wiser,
I used to tell everyone, nze ndi musada
They'd laugh and mimic but I'd own it,
Now as I grow I can't even convince self
life seems to be about problem solving,

So maybe it's cause I don't own a home,
And I don't know the struggle of one,
The hustle of having no alternatives
It's either you feed your own or they die,
I can't possibly fathom the ordeal,

But God isn't stupid, He trades fair deals, If that came along I would find means,
put food on the table and guard my kin,
I wouldn't let up, you know what it means,
abandoning kin yet you had everything,


Nah, so am I man enough?
Maybe what has me in doubt is my weakness for love...

Lost as a sheep.

Lost as a sheep.

Lost as a sheep, I wandered as I wondered,
Where the place for a man like me lays in yonder.
Asunder from God as I try to discover my treasure,

Ayeh,
worry crept up on me, shoving me off deck unto plank;
Beastly eyes, wicked claws, foul breathe heaving behind my neck,
Awaiting my next move to gradually bring me distress.

They say It's not a hustle if it's not bringing in enough money,
Even if it could stone Goliath, they say almost doesn't hit a fly,
And behind the shadows it larks, it's bound to remain timid

It's not a struggle if it seems to be fenced in privilege,
So I am neither struggling or hustling,
Am in between advantaged, and lazy,
Lucky but useless, they say my wind shield is smudged.

So my efforts are reckless; like a peeping lingerie affair.
On life's Richter scale for people like me; am a lazy idealist,
even if am constantly at it, wielding  multiple visions,

I am impaired, my eyes can't get my feet to move.
I'm Micheal on sativa, two "right" feet ayeh I've lost the groove,
They don't believe in what I do- I look like I have no clue.

Tukola bagaya

Tukola bagaya - Ungratefulness


My emotions are not for free,
Ayeh, I offered them to you at no cost
I gave you the liberty to rock my boat,
And like tide you steered me off course

Tukola Bagaya

You brought your ego on board,
Now your elephant is weighing us down.
I have tried to turn a blind eye and play clown,
It has made me your subject, I now worship your crown.

Tukola bagaya


Tangled in bewilderment I ask myself why
One would break a home that has been tamed,
By letting in promiscuity of chimpanzees,
Yet we vowed to be bound by the grace of swans.

And when faced by confrontation,
Their tongues slither and tell bold lies,
Maybe a lie is used to protect those we respect,
But if you ought to show respect why lie to yourself?


Tukola bagaya


When we got locked into this like chains,
I gave no false hope that we would last till eternity,
Ayeh I've played my part not to set false standard,
And I have stayed true despite it not being enough.

Tukola bagaya

Now here you are wielding power you desired,
Using it to your advantage instead of letting it sand us-
To smoothen out our flaws and leave out what you frowned upon.
Have you not become the double standard that put you off?

Tukola bagaya

if our hubris gets the best of us,
Our wings are clipped and we fall from grace,
And our whims and desires cloud our judgement
We then put our selfish interests before those we love,

As if that's not enough we lose sight of who we truly are,
We embody these false personas because they fit the moment,
Forgetting that who we've become is not the reason we're loved,
Then we go bananas wondering why our confidants have left us.

Father and son

Father and son

You want love?  You want love ?
Are you a woman? Are you a woman?
Are you my wife, young man?
I'm not supposed love you,
I made you, I didn't choose you
There's a difference and if you understand it you'll be a better man.

Look at me,
I've made a man of myself without a father,
I've worked day and night to give you and your sisters shelter,
I've single handedly maintained our family legacy,
And it was  the works of my hands that made He bless me?


And here you are chocking on your tongue whimpering  over love,
Are these the spills lord gave me?
An emotional millennial with tears for fists
What a shame! I see the legacy I have built turn to ruins in your hands and I weep myself to sleep!
I fool myself that  you will turn into  a man of worth
but the words you spew make me regret your birth.

In my days men would  break back to feed the pack,
They'd  be no time to get pats on the back,
you earned your worth by the blisters on your hand,
You made ends meet without compromise
Otherwise,  you would  be left to the hounds,
and that's all you'd be in life; a feast to scavengers.

Now here you are asking for love...
You disgust me, you're waste of good sperm

How do?

I'm tired! Tired of you thinking you know everything
You've been marinated in praise. So you feel heaven sent.
You've succeeded but men before you built empires you can only dream of.
Tell  me, what's it like with your head in the sky thinking you're some kind of Gabriel?

You think you have it figured out ayeh, you are no man
A man is no man if he is no father,  and a father is no father  having failed to make a reasonable man of his son, having failed to get his son to be better than him, to learn from his mistakes.

Ayeh all you do is leave me out in the pigs,
Lost in a world of greed, struggling to decipher our creed,
breast feeding off the widow because you chose to kill-
yourself when you turned your back and walked out that door,
It stings but its the truth, am a aloof, am a mad man spazzing.

You speak of trust, how about lust?
Can I trust you yet you could barely keep a woman?
What riches  do you have for me to scuffle over?
A house, barren land, maize fields of infested comb?
Honor? Your honour, I object that is nothing to bequest.