[Voiceover]

Many people live small, limited, uncreative and empty lives
Because they believe these false ideas to be true
Powerful, limited, negative suggestions
Are simply not true

[Adlib]

Let’s call a huddle…
Drop it…

[Verse 1]

Honorable and benevolent ancestors, let’s connect
This rhythm creeping up my spine
Knocking at my neck
Now we done gathered up some
Heartbeats, the sun is set
We ‘bout to Essence, Black Enterprise, Ebony, Jet
Illusions, hallucinations of the heart and mind
Psychological relapse to a wiser time
Hips, pedals, and jawlines, we been on the grind
“Warriors” riding out like we from Coney Isle

[Singing Chant]

Listen children to bigger visions
There is no prison
Just reset your prisms

[Verse 1—Continued]

Hot Honey Waters, alias is Freeda Slaves
EMMA LEE M.C. was written in the caves
Gossip content? Spit documentaries
I spit fashion shows, disease remedies
African Kennedy, Nubian Goddess Eisenhower
When the beat rise, we have entered power hour

[Hook]

Sound the analog alarm
Beat the eardrums
This the high for the “Low End” theorem

Come with your offerings
Feet, tongues, heart, respect
By the light of the flame
Generations connect

[Verse 2]

My emotional business, district, jurisdiction
Dispel fiction of the mouth with indigenous diction
Step in a pond of a thousand frogs and hear the ‘ribbits’
This is zero, one, in universes full of digits
Or the number five, number seven, or number nine
Intelligent, closest to God and I’m in my prime
Needing way more feminine creativity to shine
Masculine security, poetic sweat design
Let’s a soul-clap around the campfire one time
Those can’t be stars, by gosh
That shadow, it ain’t mine!
This exercise is a therapy and a sacred tithe
Spiritual smores now who brought their taste and appetite
Grahams (grams) for the measure of melanin on the market
Chocolate for the bars, out-flavor all opponents
Marsh for the land, titles, and deeds
Buried us, we were seeds
Medicine, call ‘em weeds

[Hook x2]

[Singing Chant x2]

[Verse 3]

I wake, my agenda is peace and then I go to war
Question everything though
The answers was given before
The conjure of the roots and the leaves
Has just begun (Jimmy Castor)
I don’t need 93 million miles to get to the sun
The ground under my sole (soul) is a strong relationship
I create with my hands, just like my penmanship
Thoughts into things, death from a metal grip
Endings are beginnings
Never trip in Satan’s house
Religious shout like the
“Mazel tov” when glass broke
The Sojourner Truth:
“Ain’t I A Woman?” was never spoke
Like Eazy E, most these rappers
You should never quote
You know the lineage listening
And casting their votes
We moon soaked from moonshine
We evident
The breath of life, the spark of light
The blood of kin
The “skull and bones” of the
Ancients over moderns
My alma mater’s altars
We quake but never falter

[Hook x2]

[Singing Chant x2]