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This blog would from time be posting lyrics from individuals who may not necessary be rappers. The lyrics could spun from many subjects and must be conscious in nature.

Beginning the series is this piece submitted by Chaucer B titled ‘How Many John’s’. The message is clearly stated in the lyrics.

Read On.


Verse 1

In the heat, aboard this trosky, stacked like sardines
Okumchacha on radio, binding spirits – land and marine
Armpits from hell, can smell it even from thirty feet
Filth engulf us, dusty roads,choked gutters and dirty streets
City’s filled to the brim with fully air-conditioned malls
Packed with faces in makeup till the air-conditioning stalls
It’s all good cuz Circle’s about to get a facelift
Flyovers, interchanges evolving, yeah, the pace’s swift
Man, I wish every year was an election year
Cuz you see nothing like this until election’s near
Barter bentua, chamber pots and chale wote for votes
Yeah man, I know this cuz I’m all always taking notes
Even seen a box of sugar with a candidate’s face
Didn’t know St Louis decided to get its lion replaced
Well it’s the concrete jungle here so anything goes
Politicians getting wild and mauling friends, so what of his foes?

How many Johns does it take to fix an economy?

Verse 2

When we were kids, we used to speed on Mr Andoh’s verandah
And his missus would go mad cuz we aroused her anger
Now we grown, we want more N1s that we can cruise on
Liquored up on gin and juice and get a bruise on
They’re taxing everything – they’ll soon start to tax your thought.
Property, Poverty, VAT
And all the ones we fought
Paying bills though I’m getting nothing from the power lines
Instead of power, I’m getting excuses on the hour – lies
Now the harmattan’s here, all I see is the mist ahead
Like the future of this nation is the fight for fish and bread
This Tekpernomics kinda tragic
So dejected, the masses turned to Obinim for some magic
Abracadabra! passports conjured from the land of cadavers
This is funny but ain’t laughing cuz they try to starve us
Don’t need goggles to see it’s corruption in 3D
Fuck the CPI, it’s no perception,
They’re on a stealing spree.

Verse 3

Getting scammed on the daily by these lousy service providers
Everywhere you go, it’s the same trash that they provide us
Regulators in bed with private business, we ain’t protected
It’s all about their pockets and kickbacks that they projected
So why won’t Selase put graffiti on some buses and called it branding?
When she can get so much money like they’re giving kids candies?
They say “Don’t go on strike” but hell yeah, y’all know strikes work
They’ll never listen until workers get up and go berserk
Now things are real, a lot of murmuring from number nine
The World Bank of votes is stirring from her slumber lines
They claim they didn’t take a dollar when they took the Gitmo two
Let’s put em on a polygraph and see if they’re lying too
We already got fifty souls taken by meningitis
We waiting for fifty more to go ‘fore we can fight this?
Imagine if we woke up and had another John
Would he have an imagination, clearer and better than Lennon?

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