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No Service (ft Anjolee & Mutombo Da Poet)

from Orange Card - Fruitopian Raps by Wanlov The Kubolor

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"No Service ft Anjolee & Mutombo Da Poet"

Produced by Kweku Ananse...this song summarizes my current thoughts about the way the world deals with people who choose to be different.

Was going to make it the intro track, but our China problem is more important to me than myself ? I have been asked to leave 2 shops in France and one hotel in Ghana for being barefoot.

As Orange Card is a tip off to Green Card there was no way I was not getting the sugary soulful honest siren Anjolee (Los Angeles based singer/songwriter) back to bless this project. Check her soundcloud: anjoleethefree

Mutombo Da Poet is an ultra talented poet that keeps inspiring and surprising me with his progressive attitude. His mastery of wordplay is borderline mindcontrol. His soundcloud: MutomboDaPoet

lyrics

How you fit walk in my shoes?
I no get som seff
I tell dem ahhh hu
But be like som deaf
Kubolor, I eat the beat till there's none left
We meet, we greet, I go my right, you go your left
And that's how it's kept
And that's why you wept
Coz while you slept
That's when she crept
Whether biting bofrote or consuming crepes
Herding silly billy goats crip-walking in a creche
The shrine or the church
Me I mine and I search
For the swine who dey perch
On top of my freedom taken from birth
I go hit you plus music till I return to the dirt
By the time you go see ma worth
E go be too late
Dey couldn't measure his girth
He was too great
You say you get faith
But you dey fear your fate
You imagine some gate
Where racists dey wait
Decolonise your ways
We be full of grace
Dey make we disgrace
Now we dey hide face
We no dey kai the taste
We no dey chew, dey paste
We no dey save, dey waste
We no dey chill, coz haste
Wey e dey worry me so much coz
Dis new world get one rule
And dat rule
Dey bore me pass everytin
Dey say

No shoes, no shirt, no service
We only respect clothes
No shoes, no shirt, no service
We be perfect clones

U judge da way I dress
U tink u know wot's best
U censoring my breasth
U are the cancer in my chest
U dare to ask me me why I feel oppressed
Now I don't know wot dey told u
To mould u first dey will hold u
Dey will scold u and then fold u
By the time dey are done you won't know the old u
Oh do u really want to live like this?
Do u truly prefer ignorance for the bliss?
I see u roll yor eye wen knowledge blows u a kiss
Yes I know u did college but somtin is amiss

No shoes, no shirt, no service
We only respect clothes
No shoes, no shirt, no service
We be perfect clones
No shoes, no shirt, no service
We only respect clothes
No shoes, no shirt, no service
We be perfect clones

Did not get my freedom in trinket box or silver platter
Let us save the latter for the head of John the Baptist
Had to unlearn and relearn repeatedly like I was in a choir practice until I came out of the gutter
Box was cramped, everywhere scatter
But I forced myself in because, cool kid
And no one wanted to be on the blacklist
Said I'm unique, but I guess talk is cheap
Copying is expensive, I was sheep
The world is my shepherd I shall always not want
Because it steered me on the wrong path
Now I say go to hell with your righteousness, let me be
I'm ringing a bell with my consciousness, that is the key
Sculpted a road with my toil and sweat, I'm not staying in my lane
No matter the load won't turn back because the files I left behind are corrupted
Soul searching, google can't help.
You mad because I don't google trends to follow then say I need help
It's Boring when everything looks the same
Our lovers should be able to tell the difference
I know it's about preference
But the greatest crime on earth is lying to your soul

They say no shoes, no shirt, no service
We only respect clothes
No shoes, no shirt, no service
We be perfect clones
We be perfect clones
We be perfect clones

credits

from Orange Card - Fruitopian Raps, released April 26, 2017
Prod: Kweku Ananse

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Wanlov The Kubolor Accra, Ghana

Wanlov the Kubolor is a visionary musician, producer, and filmmaker. He is an Akan from the Balkans. He wants freedom, justice, and love for all.

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