Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song NO MORE TEARDROPS, artist - Victor Kwesi Mensah.
Date of issue: 06.08.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
NO MORE TEARDROPS |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
No more teardrops (Hold on!), no more teardrops |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
Police cars on fire in the streets |
Tear gas and the dogs on a leash |
The scene seem like somethin' in the sixties |
They takin' knees like Monica Lewinsky |
They beating women like Bobby did Whitney |
That’s why the only blue we salute is to Nipsey |
Juneteenth barbecue at the precinct |
Hanging by the pigtails, burned down Wendy’s |
Strange fruits still swingin' from the trees |
White folks protesting 'cause they can’t leave |
Try twenty-five to life, that’s a real quarantine |
They just take the mask off when they can’t breathe |
But we got officers knees in our esophagus |
Face blue 'cause he running out of oxygen |
Got his brains blew by one of his accomplices |
Add you to the list of his accomplishments |
He came forward in the night, now we’re mourning |
Black fist up to no-knock warrants |
But the fascism ain’t the only army warrin' |
Look at the way the patriarchy took and tore him |
Look at the blood, the streets filled with teardrops |
I ain’t slavin' for 'em, I ain’t 'bout to share crop |
Pissed off, my wrist lock in gridlock |
I’m with this shits, nigga, 'til the bullshit stop |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
No more teardrops, no more tears |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
No more teardrops, no more tears |
I’m tired of only seein' niggas at the funeral |
Tired of learnin' my homie’s name at the eulogy |
I’m tired of wearin' suits, man, this ain’t suitable |
I’m tired of runnin', but the cops keep shooting me |
Niggas dyin' and we still buyin' jewelry |
Nigga, this ain’t the time for the tomfoolery |
A sign of the times, shit ain’t what it used to be |
I throw a hoodie on, look at what they do to me |
.223 cocked, I don’t need a handout |
This Wall Street, we done got a bailout |
They try to tell us to believe in the government |
But even when Barack is president, niggas had to sell rocks |
One out of fifteen niggas in the cell block |
The other fourteen, don’t nobody care about |
I’m in the courtroom pullin' my hair out |
'Cause I get another year for each one of my dreadlocks |
At times, you gotta fight back to get your life back |
But if you fight back, you might get your life jacked |
And just to fight back, you gotta have the right stack |
'Cause Johnny Cochran gonna hit you with the price tag |
Malcolm X, Huey Newton, they don’t like that |
Hell, hell nah, they don’t like that |
First nigga try to hit me with a nightstick |
I’m going for my clip, I ain’t goin' out like that |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
No more teardrops, no more tears |
No more teardrops, no more teardrops |
No more teardrops, no more tears |
Can you feel that pain? |
(Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off) |
Can you feel that pain? |
(Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off) |
Can you feel that pain? |
(Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off) |
Say, «It's time for a change!"(Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
Can you feel that pain? |
(Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off) |
Can you feel that pain? |
(Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off) |
Can you feel that pain? |
(Shake 'em, shake 'em, shake 'em off) |
Say, «It's time for a change!» |
I know I’m at war |
All I ever wanted to do was live without fear |
(All he ever wanted, wanted) |
Now I’m all tied up (All tied up) |
With nowhere to go (Nowhere to go, oh) |
Spiritual negro, keeper of the cult |
My heart and the Holy Ghost (I hear) |
Of the long-forgotten South (I hear) |
First I assert my memory, rockin' my moccasins (I hear) |
They observed I had a cottonmouth, when I spoke (I hear) |
I spit fire that was stored up in my bones, then I smoke (I hear) |
Listen though, our skin-folk into kinfolk |
That’s what I kept my dome on a swivel for in this, uncivil war |
They want me to shut up and dribble more |
Black soil, got rich from the dirt |
Struggle, marriage, still engaged in combat |
Looking for real armed men and I’m next |
Turing Birmingham into a hot plate to feed my youngins |
Indeed they dug it |