August 23, 2010

Until the lion learns to speak
The tales of hunting will be weak
My poetry hails within the streets
My poetry fails to be discrete
It travels across the earth and seas
From Eritrea to the West Indies
It knows no boundaries, no trees
It’s studied in parts of the Greece

(runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)
I am sick as far as lyrics
I with it as far as gimmicks
I spit barraging limit
The shit they talking, rip it
I am hip, the hop is living
I skip the obvious women
Don’t get what I am presenting
No rims, my mind is spinning

(runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)

I was born and raised in the place
Where the thorn of flame would blaze
Where the foreigners are not embraced
Where they warn you in jogging pace
Where the loners lower their gaze
Where the corners slower the chase
Where they twist and turn in a maze
With a pistol upon your face

(runtaa hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)

So come with me to my lungs
The depths can be overrun
With passion, see how I come
No cash, I’m free in the slums
And the past, can we overcome
I’m asking we be the ones
To actually be the ones
To free our people from guns

(hadii kale waxaan lahaa aaheey)

From: Until the Lion Learns to Speak – K’naan

[Roz just got an ipod. music might become a reoccurring theme]


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