'Cause of the sweet colour of our skin
They wan throw banana skins at John Barnsey's
They tell us to go fuckin' back to our own country
But they won't even give us back our own countries
Every entrance to a door
Has a footprint left by the ones that came before
Let's talk about the day the wind was rushed up on the shore
They promised us so much and then they left us to be poor
Need superhero capes for the stuff our mum's had to endure
Just heading to the store, no blacks, no Irish and no dogs
The system's taking course and the most powerful are fraud
They trap us in estates, won't even educate us boys
And wonder why we break the law
This ain't for the culture, it's for the connoisseur
This ain't for the club, it's for the mandem on the curb
They're tryna take away our art, how we supposed to earn?
And express what's in our heart, I beg you