Bronze Watch - Bambu

Bam blllaah

Let me get that out the way first

I’m trying to grab your focus by the eighth bar of the first verse

My son said, «Dad, you mad?»

I said, «Yeah, son, I’m fucking pissed

Cause I just read some shit about a murdered kid who coulda been a kid

You mighta went to school with

Might’ve made some moves with

Might’ve been a fan of daddy’s music, now some bullshit

Went and put a bullet in 'em, but worse than how they did 'em

I’m pissed cause that little kid coulda been you, and God help 'em

God forbid some shit should happen, it’d be worse than cartel beef

Crazy southeast Asian kids with rockets firin' down your street

But nah it’s beasts among us

We don’t need Jesus or brothers

We need Mom and Dad and those who’s supposed to love us

To love us, while the system try an' fuck us

Brown people out of justice

Cause a free market economy, money, Mayweather duck us

Melanin in the mixture, uplift my brothers and sisters

Students, workers, and teachers, gangbangers and guerrillas

I got you wishin'

Wishin' you were brown

I got you wishin'

You were a darker shade of brown

Now you feel me when I do these introductions, I go English first

And then I’m going in as best I can and flip that second verse

In Tagalog dapat naman pero napuputol ang salita ko

Bumalik ako sa Pinas in 2012 walang pinagbago

Ang dami nang gusali tinataas ang Makati

Pag dumame ang corporacion maghihirap ang ma dadale

Pare grabe talaga ang ginawa ni GMA

Pinag bili ang ating lupa walang hiya right in our face

So pag tumama ang ambon sa bansa ko guha lupa

(Para ka talagang politician huh) pero may utak

Mula sa ugat, from the struggle, since my mom pushed

Smog City’s own, first chapter of the last book

Same face kissed by Cecilia back in the third grade

Same face that cried when she was murdered in the sixth grade

That anti-glorifying of a life that took her life

Dark truth so when you’re wishing you were me, you think twice

Wishin' you were brown x3

I will never say that progress is being made

If you stick a knife in my back nine inches and pull it out six inches,

there’s no progress

You pull it all the way out, that’s not progress

The progress is healing the wound that the blow made

And they haven’t even begun to pull the knife out, much less try to heal the

wound

They won’t even admit the knife is there

One rifle per family