African spirits and cocktails [Part 1]

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Give Molotov his cocktail for the bread that he serve stale
Malcolm asked me to go beyond the tale
Tell these flowers the concrete ain’t the only thing they can burst from
Prepare the native tongues to sing their best song
Ask the roots if they found where they’re from
Cos I’m home
My expectations of men was not something I owned
But was constructed by men to please men alone
My need for women weren’t much different 
Treat them badly and blame the system
Feed my ego like they did my people
Can you ask them how the bread and cocktail tasted?                                
Golden youth wasted, our only brew was hatred
Buzz was amazing. 
Looking at discolored faces
Who were never dealt aces
Practicing their paces as they Rome
Trying to find home…

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