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Check-Out Mista Govament
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Check-Out Mista Govament
"There’s a boy from Sierra Leone, holding a AK47 rifle With one amputated arm He lost to the blood diamond on your wife’s finger There’s a child from Iraq who saw his sisters’ brain splattered His whole life shattered" Check this poem by dub poet Kokumo.
So the view is beautiful as you sit and twirl
In your sky scrapers
Remain captivated by the beauty
Of neon lights that shines bright in the city
But step out and step into my world
Step out of your first world fantacy and into a third world reality
Come with me, to the so called ghettos of the world
Where raw sewage flows underneath your feet
Come and listen to the belly of a Soweto child speak
Bare footed children caressing cold concrete in Rio
Dodging ricochet bullets in Kingston’s ghetto
Whilst scavenging for food in a Shanti town
That’s the harsh reality, blakk communities becoming crack city
But not to worry
Because you can sit infront of your plasma screen
And show pity for starving children in Afrika
With wind puffed up in their bellies
While your belly is filled
With the food that had being taken out of their mouth
The money you donated to charity
To save the childrens’ fun, cannot be found
Because it never got pass administration cost
And you wonder why there are still starvation
In the countries you striped of their resources
The day you take your hands out of our pockets
And dip it in the ones sitting in your govament office
The false prophets collecting profits
The so called terrorists won’t be suicidal anymore
But be the delivery man at your front door
So before you answer that doorbell
Thinking the revalushan had being quelled by riot police
There’s a boy from Sierra Leone, holding a AK47 rifle
With one amputated arm
He lost to the blood diamond on your wife’s finger
There’s a child from Iraq who saw his sisters’ brain splattered
His whole life shattered
A girl from Sudan who can’t understand why
She had being raped and her entire family murdered by malitia
There’s a child from Kosovo, with both legs amputated
Trying hard to think how to face the man with the guilt
Because papa had just gotten paid
From dealing in the arms trade
There’s a child from Southern Afrika
Questioning why most of her friends are victims of AIDS
So you think it’s strange, when I say
None of us are innocent
When we’re all forced to pay taxes
To bring your boys home in boxes
And the truth is, they don’t know the real enemies
Your enemies are not kids throwing stones at tanks
In the West Bank
Check - Out the man running the World Bank
Check - Out mista govament man
Check - Out the G8 gang
But now the mute got his speech back
And the youths knowledge increasing
The rebel is about to take your seat
So the view aint that beautiful anymore
When you are about to be dropped
From the top floor
Of the Ebony Tower
Check - Out the view
Check - Out
Bus Out, Bus Out
Mista Govament Man
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