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emmanuel ngula - mama africa lyrics

(tribal music plays) (fire crackles) (elephant trumpets) (woman sings) uh. 1884, the scrumbles began. the jude lions in berlin. no african presidents, just students in the room. prowling west, so relentless. they bleed borders like the scars on their skin. they divided our skin just to profit and win. marshall plan go ghosted, straight from my hand. while leather worn suits, legos, dren, drought, they forgot the empires once coasting clout. the un? a stage with selective concern. watch rwanda burn, let the bodies’ will turn. hutu, tutsis, bones kiss the red soil while peacekeepers slept or bartered with oil. ngo jeeps with curated concerns, snapping hunger like filters for tax returns. selling hope in merch, donation drives, but never plant trees where real freedom survives. trump pulled a, they screamed like a siren. but their leaders whispered, “let the silence be iron.” touring fossil rooted over dollars, feeding fire in mines while the world still hollers. africa ain’t broke, just broken in news. still the richest continent, just missing views. with their diamonds, they bury the sun, the eclipse. ’bout to breakin’ the vault, no more apocalypse. no more crumbs, we want the whole oven glow. no more puppets in the suit with they stolen show. from soweto to robin, mandela stood flame. 27 years caged till he wrote the game. a+ a+ apartheid fell, the echo still speaking through the schools underfunded and poverty peaks. they mined our pride like veins of pain. polished it, sold it, still wearing our names. we ain’t the third world, we the world’s first spark. drumming history into darkness, still lighting the arc. (chanting) africa. (chanting) africa. (chanting) africa. (chanting) africa. dlamini+zuma to gqomme, forgive us, we miss rain just thunder as distance drumming. that’s why the skies over africa still wearing chains. our borders still stitched by foreign hands, not our veins. we mind the earth but bury our unity, treating like strangers across our history. self+empowerment like tori flames. one torch, but too many shadows play one game. the lost child of sudan walk through the fractured lore. holding broken flags from tribal war. africa ain’t got a seat at the security feast. but we feeding the table from the famine to feast. got the diamonds and dirt but our voice ain’t mined. they digging our silence, leaving our future blind. un talks peace but we ain’t missing the gravel. encounters called time to sudan’s crude. they expose the blood, then they call us rude. they count our votes but not our voices. extract our work, then deny our choices. while mali sings in gha. they steal the soil and sell like schemes. they say developing but keep the code. imf loans with a heavy load. africa ain’t broke, it’s just been looted. our crown sold off and the kings executed. (chanting) africa. (chanting) africa. (chanting) africa. (chanting) africa. (instrumental music plays) you’re chilling with the modest producer out here. it’s your turn on beats, by the way. (instrumental music plays) (elephant trumpets) (instrumental music plays)

- emmanuel ngula lyrics

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