You're hunted down like game
Every time your face appears
It's like logic disappears
In the mind of caucasian

The devil in them awakens
Their thirst for fresh blood
Reawakens, their heart's
Drops because of the rush

It experience, some even suffer
Cardiac arrest because of
The drive to kill an innocent
Soul, 400+ years it was through

Their eyes only but today with
So many eyes he's unashamed
To Lynch and play victim when
The camera start to roll towards

His cold souls, a people full of hate
Yet I'm of Horus I never die
But multiply, I'm not Cesare Borgia
But of the highest esteem

I might be afraid to go out with
Limited freedom due to the gun
In hand of Trump on my head
Hate in his lips inciting

Violence towards the kushinite
The Nubians, the true people
of Kemet, children whose soul
Is direct from Him we don't die

But multitude, for our ancestors
Are cleaning the grave way for
Us in the after life
Rest in peace Chadwick Boseman
© Malunga G