كلمات الاغنية

All for one!!!
On OYO
Ours is the
Generation of pen warriors and
Great Masters of the literary dynasty ,
Cursed with a course to
Pierce through the Hymen of our ignorance,
Inkbleeding daily on sheets
While changing mindsets,
Ours is a generation of Verbal crafts..
Our cemetery!..houses the remains of Literary
Goliaths , Great legends of this immortal artform
Buchi emechetta, Achebe,Okigbo,
Gabriel Okara Vatsa and all those who's words Gloriously tiptoed and danced on pages in styles technique and Dictions, with our
Cultures, with our
Cultures
often woven and
Seamlessly sewn into the fibres of their
Thoughts, thoughtfully patterned in metaphors and exaggerated use of Hyperbole like Okonkwo's fufu mountain see

Ode from our lips speaks to the souls
Of those wey hold am stand,
Those who's philosophies and truth too true to Lie.... in state,
Choosed to lie engraved in a new culture
Language, movement and rhythm
Talking about
Afrobeatz.... I speak of Fella Anikolapo Kuti
The Loud Legend
Whose voice vvvvibrate louder than the barrell
Of the gun , Fierced than a battalion, Persecuted, and
Arrested over 200 times, kept in isolation yet His convictions
Where tattooed to his lungs and
With each breath..... dragging rivers of Inspiration
Soaring him high from kalakuta to the world;

Ours is a Community of Convicted Penlords
Our Epitaphs immortalizes the deeds of martyrs
Like Enenche Amaruben, Saro wiwa, and
Sowore who's muse unrestricted by
Bills and biddings of decrees and dictators,
Flows through pages and lips declaring
Revolution Now or never,
A push towards freedom, or quiver in Oppression
Suppression, Subjugation, repression and Every other shuns
That sort to shun our voice from this Democratic dialogue see…

Ours is a clan of Well capped chiefs
Our chieftains and elders na Soyinka, Jp Clark
Emecheta, amongst others
With Vibrant heirs like Philip Asaya, Dike Chukwumerije, Efe Paul, Donna, Patrick Dominic, Plumbline, Torpedo
D-Ray the Pidgin whistle; and you wey know
Grraaaciano know say I no fit finish without ......Benny Finisher... and
Our Priest..,
Our King no from Zulu, yet we kingdom
Formidable like Figures of Speech,
With warriors tactically recruited from
Several War of Words
Aquila,Kemistree, PaulWord, Toby Abi....
You no know Fragile we dey Jimpoet?.....

Ours is a choir of great singers,
And Reggae prophets
Who's philosophies and prophesies
Prophesied across seas and oceans still holds
Current,currently shocking our very being
Words Burned on turn table sets, cassette tapes, and CDs; See this
Same songs still breathes,
Begging to be listened to
But songs are hardly been born (burn)again
Backsliding our souls with noisy beats yet

Ours is a band of legendary Voices...
2 face, Jimmy Jatt,Osadebe Modenine, Victor wyfor M I, and many Omoh, Simi Asa (as I ) nearly forget Simi and Asa...

Alas!,
Ours is now a generation of faceless warriors
And bandwagon buffers, tossed to and fro by all what not
Twitter warriors and savages,
Clever in tweets and sarcasm
Harsh with their harshtags but never willing
To tag actions into it, the moment one goes down the claws of oppression tagged a felon
Convicted of hate speech, we quickly retire to
Our shells cos it's all for one!
On OYO!.

But someday we will be remembered
As a generation of those who dived
Down the Atlantic in search of Ancestral muse
Buried Across the Atlantic; muse
Traced to the lips of Slaves... In hymns,blues
Jazz and Hip-Hop.
Curled from the unclothed blood of
Ngugi Wa Thiongo, Angelou, Edgar Allen Poe, Emily Dickinson see this is a universal Bloodline.
Ours is a generation of those prophesied
About that the beautiful ones are not yet born
For we're no Longer At Ease
Waiting for Sunset at East
But will have our Words, coming and going,
Coming And Going This Several Seasons
Till Aso Baobab Tree Rejects All Abiku
For our hearts have witnessed great writers
Bottled Leopards up, how much more
This Corrupt Chameleons....

This Piece is dedicated to all the Pen-Warriors and literary Goliaths
Who gave up breathing so that Truth
Could Meet Ink