[Intro] Grandma said “Boy, you walk like you royal” I laughed, but I felt it in my shoulders Still feel it [Verse 1] I move slow, head high through the heat Gold tooth flash when I speak my piece Country boy, but my blood run deep Way past creek water and the red clay streets Skin like obsidian, story like scripture Ancient in my face, see the clan in the picture Say my name, sound sharp, sound coastal Like frankincense smoke in a Ford on local I’m that tall tale cousin at the cookout table Turn a front yard fold-out to a fable From Section 8 ceilings to incense tents From food stamps lines to caravan rents Talk black coffee, talk burnt plantains Talk kushite kings in my cheekbones, mane Every step I take in these busted Nikes Got a whole fleet of ships walkin’ right beside me [Chorus] I’m a Horn of Africa heart in the South Ancient Somalis in the way I move around From the dirt roads all the way to the sound I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown (yeah, yeah) Head high, half-raspy when I talk my truth Got the past in my posture, future in my roots From the Horn to the hood, it’s the same damn proof I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown [Verse 2] Grew up where the sheriff ride slow, eyes cold Mama kept a Bible by the stove, pot gold I was in the mirror with a durag tight See a desert in my pupils and a porch at night We the same ones guarding every trade route Now I’m guardin’ my mind from the hate out Ancient sailors, young hustler Both had to measure every stranger that come up to ya Cousins got grills, cousins got degrees Cousins got warrants, cousins overseas Still, when we laugh, that sound feel old Like drum circles under fluorescent poles I be in the booth talkin’ cash and pain Talkin’ tribe and chain, talkin’ loss and gain Half croak in my throat, half lion roar Like a griot in a trap spot by the corner store [Chorus] I’m a Horn of Africa heart in the South Ancient Somalis in the way I move around From the dirt roads all the way to the sound I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown (oh yeah) Head high, half-raspy when I talk my truth Got the past in my posture, future in my roots From the Horn to the hood, it’s the same damn proof I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown

rap, Moody Southern rap beat with swung hi-hats, warm sub bass, and eerie vocal samples; verses in a half-raspy male vocal with relaxed triplet flows and occasional double-time spurts. Hook lifts with layered ad-libs and a simple chant, 808s hitting harder and a bright lead synth doubling the melody. Final chorus strips back to drums and bass, vocal sitting raw and upfront., hip hop

Horn Of Africa, Heart Of The South