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Ain’t nobody gonna help when it comes to knowing how

To feed yourself or how to grow the seeds from your scalp

This, an inheritance, is a heritage forgotten.

Too busy bending over and bleeding from the cotton.

Yeah, those memories, like seeds, stayed wedged beneath our intricate weaves. 

Somebody along the road told us not to wash our hair too often

Lest the seeds of our ancestry 

Should fall out into the soil to tell us about

Our birthright deed, the one that shall call out in the blood of Abel

Brothers and sisters,

Rise and unionize.