| History takes me back to the basement of our culture
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| I can’t hide myself anymore
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| Beneath this so-called of civilized men
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| The sands of time is what I’ve been made with
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| The hand of the past may help to lay back relax
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| If we check it now.
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| And what you’ve got to do is just take care of
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| That inner black beauty that shines through
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| Your melanine tone
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| And take care of everything you got visible or invisible.
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| For not so long ago they didn’t love none of us
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| At all.
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| I’d like to tell you something
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| It’s all about my own thing
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| Now I know what is sweet
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| I know what is sweet as sugar cane
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| And the promises they made at these times
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| Of struggle and fight must provide change in your mind.
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| For life is for lore
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| All praises are for the Lords.
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| So the souls descending from the
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| Tribe of Atkaptah will have to
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| Reminisce and unified on strong.
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| So don’t go dreamin' on the edge of their land
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| Oh no! |
| No! |
| You’ll go flyin' high, you’ll go too high
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| And now for the rest, let’s remind the pledge:
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| Each time you’ll taste the fruit of the cane
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| Don’t forget the whip, the field, their sweat.
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| (So this heritage will be as sweet as sugar cane)
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| I’d like to tell you something
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| It’s all about my own thing
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| Now I know what is sweet
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| I know what is sweet as sugar cane |