Sista Keilana - Rosa Parks (Freedom) Lyrics

Freedom, freedom
We're really being deleted as a people right now,
Genocide, Gentrified

Freedom

All my free people, put your hands up
My people had enough time to stand up
All my free people, put your hands up

My ummi had enough time to stand up
Voice to the south like I'm Anna Cooper
Mouth like Rosa, but I'm on a solar
Straight out the slave ship, selling clothes on the pavement

Months feel like days,
Somebody tell me where the days went
Kids come home, never asking how they day went
Martin Luther King, how I'm dreaming
H. Rap Brown, how I'm thinking

Nelson Mandela, how I'm speaking

I'm gonna tell the truth like I'm Rosa Parks
I'm from Philly
Everyday feel like it's dark

Jumping in my sleep, hearing bullets sparks
Blood splatter, can't even play at the park
Blood on the pavement
Blood on the school yard

Blood in the basement
Blood on the school bus
Blood on the playground
While I had my head down
Movin like Sojourner Truth I gotta use my head now,

Mmmmm,
Mmhhh mmh

Hijabi, we the fliest
Me & all my sisters
Garbed up on the island,
The brothers, we behind em'
Want my son to be the next president, like Obama
& he only Fear Allah
He ain't scared of ya honor,

Go ahead & Google Rosa Parks, only did a couple hours
& Still went viral, understand the concept
I'm giving you the dawah

Giving you the game
I'mma give it to you proper
Give it to you proper (givem dawah)
Give it to your daughter, give it to your papa

Sick and tired of Philly, sick of sirens and nonsense
Funerals, Janazahs,
Moms keep crying, cause her son got killed down the street
In a plaza,
Coretta Scott how I carried it

Martin Luther King had a dream, can't cancel it

Want my son to be the next president, like Obama
& he only FEAR ALLAH
He ain't scared of ya honor,

Go ahead & Google Rosa Parks, only did a couple hours
& Still went viral, understand the concept
I'm giving you the dawah,
Giving you the game

I'mma give it to you proper
Giving you the game
I'mma give it to you proper
Give it to you proper (givem dawah)

Give it to your daughter, give it to your papa
Sick and tired of Philly, sick of sirens and nonsense
Funerals, Janazahs,
Moms keep crying, cause her son got killed down the street
In the plaza,

Coretta Scott how I carried it,
Martin Luther King had a dream, can't cancel it
Millionaire like Oprah Winfrey, how I carry it,
Free the slaves like Harriet

Next up like Kamala, some people handle it
Imma tell the truth like I'm Rosa Parks
I'm from Philly, everyday feel like it's dark
Jumping in my sleep, hearing bullet sparks

Blood splatter, can't even play at the parks
Blood on the pavement, blood in the schoolyard
Blood in the basement, blood on the school bus
Blood on the playground, while I had my head down

Moving like Sojourner Truth, I gotta use my head now, mmmmm
Mhmm mhm

All my free people, put your hands up
All my free people, put your hands up
All my free people, put your hands up

All my free people, put your hands up
All my free people, keep your hands up
Yeah
It's the Hijabi wit da Bagg