'Wonna Mama' is a call on all citizens of Ghana and the continent's (Ghana's mama) inhabitants  to push for the best and connect with the aim to solve their own problems, without reliance on the so-called leaders, who have failed massively in terms of regional integration, economic and infrastructural development, etc.

As projected more vividly with Martin Luther King Jr's quote; "the ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy," we as artists seek to portray the state of the nation and explore possible measures to tackle this death-fall.

Since kwame write released Public Verses Announcement EP, enthusiasts have been calling for more, especially as they realized he had the flair for rap aside poetry recitals.

It gets realer since kwame write features one of Ghana's most renowned musicians with a solid sense of social consciousness and activism; the one and only Wanlov Kubolor from Fokn Bois' duo.

You'll likely keep this tune on repeat and allow yourself to be carried away and sizzled by the fast paced long syllable rhyming and positive content, But do share as well.

Amidst the flooding in the capital, power outages(dumsor), water shortages, demolition of housing without properly planned relocations, we bring you #wonnamama so that as you listen keenly, you're motivated to push for change!

bloodlines

wonna mama

wonna mama ft. wanlov (produced by drumnayshin)

"..word on the streets is to censor yourself, (if) you want the elite to sponsor you well.." - @poetra_asantewa

inside story features ace ghanainan poets and wordsmiths; c_realmc and poetra asantewa. it started off with rants between kwame write and kologo player 90 on the way from art centre pito base to drkranebeats' studio at community 7, tema. the conversation was based on weighing pop culture influences as churned by the turning engine of the industry and what the artists really go through in their personal space. kwame write and 90 tried plotting out which of the above is likely to feed off the other . 

should there be a connection between the artist's he(art) and the society? is the he(art)'s story or the inside story relevant to today's audience/enthusiasts? 

90 played a kologo tune, which was later electronically touched by sound engineer and producer drkranebeats. c-realmc visited the studio and entered the first verse in the same week just before kwame write did his recording and sent the unfinished work to poetra asantewa via whatsapp to check it out. poetra asantewa liked it and agreed to visit the studio the following week, after being invited by kwame write.
 
inkfluent's very own, drumnayshin- sound engineer and producer who mixed and mastered most of the works on the vocal portraits series put the piece together to this final form. 

what do you think about 'inside story'?- please leave a comment, thanks in advance, and do watch this space for kwame write's album which is in the works. 

inside story ft poetra asantewa + c-realmc [DEMO]

sentiments, memories, home. 

vocals by kwame write
beat by gafacci
mix by drumnayshin 
recorded in 21 ent studios, tema

lyrics:
dear maame dufie. i just lef joburg airport switch my phone from flight mode. immediately i miss diet from home. then i want transit go heathrow but the way e dey snow, be like ice block choke the sky road. abi you know say i dey joke. though i dey wear 3 coats, 4 trousers and nike shocks but still i dey fight cold. how be your health, how the shop, how life dey go. how be your siblings i'm missing them. hope dem dey mow. hope your uncle shun smoke. how be your 'nana ein stroke. last time I hide her crutches hope she no hold grudges, hope she take am as joke. but soak, in due time i go holla, i swear say i go drop the dust off my collar like that german borga who dey wear that fake prada. i know say you get trust issues. maybe because the thrust reduced. painting 'i miss yous' on the canvas of your heart. sakumono susan malouk make i be your basquiat. make i be the reason for your art. young akosua agyapong i dey imagine say you dey mime awo fremaa even though e be simple rapport. we dey sort the palava when you dey sort me palava sauce. in due time i go holla, my deborah vanessa, no be say you turn borla, i for go trap this dollar, chasing that kontomire so say my pocket no go make weak like mmire. i want blow like ecg socket no be play. no be osofo dadzie back in the day. the focus dey consecrate. the process be long but make we concentrate. for the borders dem confiscate my goods. no be say i just want miemia you. love be track wey i want collaborate plus you. in due time i go holla. make we block road for osu container or convene for cape coast. your mummy receive the akok) the easter time? for christmas make you expect some scape goat. young fatia in lycra, you dey turn op my gold coast. make you no retract like nkrumah's hairline. in fact during my spare time i dey gym my chest fine. i dey protract the day we go interact so say i no go face east nor west when i dey conduct. african spirited like wiyaala. make you dance timaya under my jalabia. your paddies dey drop enough salt, why dem from ada? i see say your instagram dey pop like k)mi chao. i see that selfie with elsie, be like you crop me out. but no doubt i follow for twitter wey I retweet like 40 ther about. our future crib go dey like cosby house. we go laugh tey with no asem. your body body chao. i want bock your house like jehovah's witness come share with you some good news. your mummy and poppy still dey get that mood blues? if i talk back them go talk say i be too rude but e be between me and you. in due time I go holla, make we kpe like black and white volta for gonja. we go dance agbadza wear agbada nti enkasa..life be hard, don't bore if by accident i borrow an accent. no offence, hope your poppy shun dey use that yawa okada, hope mahama shun that dumsor cantata. hope your neighbours shun that sumbor wahala. their rumours forming tumours in our new love but hakuna matata. make we daddy lumba this affection aiming for perfection with revolutionary yen tie obiaa vibes. i go drop like june, depending on the weather and also the kwacha, but probably sooner, so keep your heart and duna in a safe place. we go achieve great things together for wanna hay days. make i hear from you briefly. stay safe. yours vimfully, kwame. signed with the ink from the bottom of my heart

th(rust) issues

th(rust) issues [w. gafacci]

was i wrong to die for this art to find you from the start? 
wrong to write out my part what they tried to set apart?
wrong about criminal courts critical odds misreports?
wrong to rewrite pie charts 'cause they fed you lies like farts?
wrong to spot septic sorts sicker than genital warts?
wrong to file those reports that they killing child support?
wrong about nkrumah's thoughts of africa need not stop?
wrong to merge art and science passion wise pave a way
Wrong to surge black concepts as doorsteps global brain 
wrong to use creative codes catch the light in your space?
why obsessed with instagram, picture choices made the reach?
let the people know the truth, put good noise to the beats

drum sounds don't go dim
in the shadows of home basked cold softly
softly by moonshine of hope 
under the umbrella of folklore resonation

was i wrong to write about the wrongs to try to right the wrongs? 
was I wrong to fight against the scorn to light up what was dun?
wrong to be the Midas touch with songs..the night behind the dawn?
wrong to tighten up the gorge, because i brighten up with funk?
wrong to socialize belong hover the hope inside your lungs? 
wrong to scope entice for long, provoke insight?..come on
was i wrong to rope your mind beyond to know your life belong? 
wrong to say that love is warm so to get the hate withdrawn? 
wrong recite when I perform because you'd like to dance and bump?
was i wrong to bless the mic with puns and set alive the drums?
why pin tweets you could pin good voices to the streets?
let the people know the truth, put good noise to the beats
WAS I wrong 
was I wrong
was I wrong wrong wrong 

Am I right
Am I right
Am I right right right 
was I wrong
was I right
was I wrong right wrong 

Ebe ye yie before I end this song?

drum sounds

drum sounds ft. leila adu (prod. euiv, mix. drum)

bloodline - gye nyame (prod. yungfly, mix. drum)

eye aa kai se dua kro p3 ntumi nye kway3 
..saa dua yiaa eye papa na wofro aa yepia wo saa so b) woekyi mpaye
aboa aa onni dua dindann Nyame..nekyi hia praye
yenndae3 aa yenso dae3
kraataa sika kraa b3too sidi3, toothbrush betoo saawie
nnie atiti mpo ntonto nnye broni na ekyre bibinii Nyankopon amamre
Gye Nyame fri adinkra fri titi ye nim Opamdie
wonnsa hy3 mennum nso mitriso na woopaye3
3ne3 minnka nwie
)tan ne yonko saa so suro dimb) nti ne ba besia ewu ewusini dakronoaa ne sekan dwaa nanka ntni
asuhene paa ne ha..entoto yen abo) 
wiase nniema abo)dinne nnto woadjwine 
bebiaa ne ha.. nsuo bet) kyina nso nn3 ejware3 af) atini
mene wobeko yedi daadaa efunu
nwansna pobi ampa ho nti yesie no akahoo woenhunu
mante menhunu dua mante menum kasa mmebu kyeremanten hwemensem ns3m nsantini
opabini..abodwese befu no na enninton tiase
nso yemu ahii na africa nk)suo ye yen dadwini
ya bo ne tofa tese ayigbe toffee  etu ahye daakye
nso ansana akok) b3nom nsuo no odikann dikyre nyame
se nyame wo sro anaa se woesane ako asaase ase dier yebehunu no na jise ya tafri saman nkyini
aboa apotro wuaa na wohunu ne tentene
koto ennya tire nso eebia na odaso kuta na dwine
nn3 wiase obinnhuhu nma obinkika..kukrukukru noe jai aka kikrekikre..

obra ne kwan ye nkyinkyimi3..bere dane aa dane woasitina..biribi ns3e aa biribi ny3 yie..enhwie engu aa yenpipa
abosomakotre nam br3br3 na odi hunu b33bi asetena..nso efie ne fie.. obi yri aa woesisie no ayifro na madane no menpena..wodru bebia busa..egudie no ebia na dodo) noaa wusie.. odjawn hwefo no nye onoaa ne ne wura..wo ti faako aa woti woaa di3 so..sotr) aa eye wo die no wogye ne baako ntem aa eboa wo..woa som wiase nyinaa Agyeman nso ye Saaso fre wo akoa..sua nyansa na som wo ho..wo si wo dan yie aa emumu mmo woso..asaase woso..nso panyin tifie ma mmofra wi nanka mmroso, ebusua nkasa nso omo nnim paa se suban bonii nfata..omo sii yensu n3 na debi debi sere3 beye  yenum ma nso bere tesee anomaa okore3 
bafansii ))ye oni nso onnim se ne to aye nfotie..nipa gye ne ho di gye ne triho egudie nso honam ye nontie
akokono.. yea ka mea hye nso mede betebete bewe ab3
defedefe ahosepesepe. wo sa adowa anaa kete kraa enye wonnf3
na wo di agbadza afra kpanlogo nn3
wonn aa wo ka wo hye no..wonn aa na opri hye ahinkye
yaa na w)nn fri s33 odenkyem homi nsuo wobr3 aa nframa ye de
ntontom si akyekyedie ekyi aa na oosei ne mr3 
tri kro k) egyina aa 3nye yie nti na misii fa wontoma b3bomi dier ano
na obinnfri beebi mme siesie fie 
mii bu wo be, se mi kawo asem aa na kyrese menbu wo nyansafuor anaa piesie
nn3 wiase obinnhuhu nma obinkika
kukrukukru noe jai aka kikrekikre..

gye nyame

gye nyame (prod. yungfly, mix. drum)

"When I look at Accra, I see a city that has an identity crisis. Urban filth, etc are not the problems. They are the symptoms. The fundamental problem is thinking." -photographer and blogger Nana Kofi Acquah

Two Accra's exist – the old and modern, the marginalized and that epitomized in the logic of urban planning practices that involve gentrification. Upscale Western archetypes push away indigenous urban residents who are unable to afford the housing rates, transit and burden of amenities. Maybe music and art or creative expressions could be bridges between the people and the government, where what we put out there can be realized?

Art work by Ian Quhachi

skyscrapers KIOSKS

Kwame Write + Yom - skyscrapers KIOSKS (Prod. Nomad, Mix. Drum)

lyrics: 
* On this dirty patch A tree once stood Shedding incense on the infant corn * 

KWAME :
Where the tree once stood Be where resource removed Architects dem get self interest mek dem keep dema tools If Muslims dey enter the church dem fit leave dema shoes? Cleared historic sites Heritage indeed valued? 
Neo-colonialists exams dem dey leave us clues Athlete’s foot, corruption baton, rust relay Prophets name themselves, baptize in cash we pay Protestants protest, pick property, plunge for place Otabil’s cheese, church mice, the rats, the race 8 billion reasons to jail for fail in collapsed banks 
Sort of rot for comot Care of your thought tanks Things sinking, make e sink in corrupt hands Plate of Atewa, Chinese restaurant, our robbed sands 
Till last bauxite, oxidized, blow that chance Shoot yourself in foot, problem be you’re no island How loud be your silence How quiet be your sirens How poetic your license? 

* Its bows stretched across a heaven Brightened by the last fires of a tribe 
They sent surveyors and builders who cut that tree *

KWAME:
Open the Mecca of minds Dem say heaven be for beggars E dey like Sega for our kind Game all the same you dey kai dem memorable times 
Awoonor predict de cathedral Adjaye realized design If the church be inclusive mek e come with a shrine Make communion drip with voodoo vow, libate with wine Roofless parts, seal/ceil am with wonna histories and bind 
Your favorite rapper (hehe) rural tax payer’s tap, fill the gaps, make mural mask leaders have, spill your guts Crucial dem dey ask make we clap, still the trash Democracy not on the map Charismatic cats, charisma mathematics 
Calculate the facts Character of collective crooks Collaborate and grab 
Almost every street get church Check the basic stats Political bend down boutique They just frisk and pack Clustered kiosk, ghetto blaster, chop chapter, white cathedral, black market, demolition be rapture? 

* Planting in its place a huge senseless cathedral of doom * 

WANLOV: 
akufo addo and david adjaye wer masturbating moaning in british accents while debating addo's dwarf complex fantasized a holy erection to be designed by timid david in an aggressive section of a city that has more churches than teachers or dustbins wat a pity addo ejaculated on desk wer dust had been adjayi adjaye’s ashy palm rubbed shaft raw red testifying while cupping his testes dat he’d rather be dead to the discerning in the colony than having his cleansed fingered himself rectally giving speeches condensed with fecal matter sputtering doodoo voodoo into the ears of the public addo had tuned in listening twisting his pubic heirs to political thrones tinkin we owe dem coz was once daddy’s own  so far we hav sub par hypocritical clones how d most backward institution fit move we forward? priests with skeletal closets dey sniff infant pant in drawers make little sammy suck sweaty shrivelled sausages who's in charge to check if the mushroom sauce is jizz capitalistic oppressed by chairmen ironically cathedral dey mean chair men be trash men be trash men be trash herrr snub yor traditional religions and boro moni from those practicing theirs china Buddhist India hindu japan shinto ma guy take the holy water home to dilute yor vimto our real god is moni so we just dey use jesus do wana juju till am laid to rest like banton buju i go catch these panting catholic priests like waju is supposed to do  dey b the reason youth think gay love b fufu of baby pupu superior nuns molest young girls until the word supi homos night propagated from priests poking pupil poopy sam jonah john kuffuor and david kneel down sake of sir sell wana gold, land n now wana souls, but chale no sir auditorium reverb amplifying weezing breaths of pot bellied bishops jesus hated business in the temple yet church is just a very big shop stop jacking off in the cathedral otse tufle amen

Mud House Address

Cathedral

Kwame Write + Wanlov the Kubolor - Cathedral (prod. Drumnayshin, Mix. Wanlov)

Storytellah's instru was made by 3RCS and the track was recorded at Community 11, Tema at Drumnayshin's studio. The music invites the audience to harness the power of telling one's own story and carving a history we identify with. 
Mud House Address is a 12 track album written and performed by Kwame Write and collaborating musicians. This is the sophomore album by the writer and artist from Ghana.

Kwame Write - Storytellah (Prod. 3RCS, Mix. Drumnayshin)

Brighton-based sound engineer Burland produced Mudhouse after he had met Kwame on the one-direction Atta Mills street in Jamestown. At Drumnayshin studio in Tema, the music came together tapping into Ghana's massive Afrobeats house flavour drawing on hard-edged street funk.
Mud House Address is a 12 track album written and performed by Kwame Write and collaborating musicians. This is the sophomore album by the writer and artist from Ghana.

Kwame Write - Mudhouse (Prod. Burland)

LYRICS:  

Nsuo yiaa na ɛde yɛ kɔ
(Takes up space in our souls)
Nsuo yiaa na ɛde yɛ ba 
(Sankofa days of our dreams)
Nsuo yi wɔ bɛɛbi kɔ oo 
(Multiple journeys and worlds)
Nsuo kita daakye kra 
(Future memories and realms) 

Nsuo yiaaa \\\.  Daakye kra 
Daakye kra oo daakye kra wɔ wonsem 

Mothers from the comets
Sure birth all earth pulses
Stop death of resources
Aura dermis sources
All Atlantic stories
Ocean depths of voices
Centripetal forces 
Water kisses moon’s lips 
Water calms, enforce quakes
Solar intercourses 
Spontaneous abortions 
Land and air divorces
Water wouldn’t forget 
Volta Nile Flint forces 
Months of murder, mortuaries 
With the different corpses 
Will return through vaults with
Colourless contortions 
Water’s friendship toughest 
Waterscapes be cosmic 
Daughters, diggers, dolphins
Lovers, dreamers, orphans 
Mami Wata, sorcerers 
Water layers organs 
Planets platforms portals  
Drop the borders, gorges 
Water takes down walls big 
Watch the igneous rocks break 
More than hearts of horses
Water races roughest 
More than hopes of homeless
Water slowly covers 

Water came saw conquered 
Water cuts diamond chips 
Water creates and courses 
Love and hate and options 
Water death discourses 
One atom of oxygen 
Formless shapeless pouring 
Iced out glacier mountains 
Water vapour soaring 
All the natural forces 
To water they submit 
Heights of ocean surges
Heart emotion splurges
Root phloems of spurges 
Trunked elephants, pigeons 
Soul water enforcements  
libation, defences
The inner ear blessings
Feels with great depth, hear it
Flows to low point there is 
Unconditional caring 
Throughout time and journeys 
Tears will bind, keep shedding 
Integrity inherit 
Reorder the essence 
Nourishes, refreshens 
Reproductive urges 
Floods that fill the pelvis 
Sperm and ovary merges  
Gift that gives so endless

Nsuo ei, woantiti yɛ ntemuo 
Nsuo ei, daakye wɔ wo nsemuo

Daakye Nsuo (prod. Rice Master Yen, Ivan Awesome, Vox. Quayba)

LYRICS:

(It's like an echo from home..)

Dear earth, I dey write this letter 
From home: a zone in Kinshasa where they steer death 
My culture’s sheer birth 
Ancestors sabi, afei diɛ daabi 
Emergency sekof lobbyists collect your tear worth 
It’s serious, prior to 18th century, 
Scientists no suspect prehistoric climates go different from modern period
Resource rush lef the race men delirious 
If you’re curious to take a cue 
Stay in tune, your landscape mirrors terror they deal you 
Nkanga’s art could teach you 
Architects of capitalism feel you 
Touch you in wrong places like rapist men do 
Let’s not pretend, unlooking the trend, energy received from sun, it’s tense 
Check stats and info 
Equilibrium loses meaning, seasons weakened, Check how the wind moves 
To pin the direction of migration of our indigenous people 
The ocean currents with broken silence 
Greenhouse gas concentrations following high trends 
Ocean-atmo circulations shown on troubled timescales 
Ozone depletion sending tensions in bones of scientists 
Fossil fuel combustion, envisioned through swollen eyelids 
Impressions bold on mindprints 
Dear earth, aerosols pull on air of souls, there’s offshore negligence 
Mother of the rock, soil, sediments 
We gather at the source, pure elements 
Sincerely yours 

(...it's like a good pair of shoes when you put some shine on...)

Climate get emergency, 
Check, Public safety tendencies

Climate change is only news to social snails 
Public safety crisis on a global scale 

Mother Earth we understand you’re rather upset 
The forest cover got nicked 
The pressure of deforestation collects under your breast 
Bees leave in fleets, 
Plastic peaks on the turfs, 
We inhabit in methane release 
Observing new weather patterns, umbrellas parting
Volcanic eruptions, cosmic flux happening 
We check your energy budget to remedy the subject 
Humans: usual suspects, newscasters stammering 
In China, they are tree planting but the Chinese got our corrupt leaders to sell Atewa for bauxite mining - mek yo mind dey ofainɛ 

Ɛnam biibi so na nsuo wiɛ 
Asaase yɛ daakye mma diɛ

Climate Strange (prod. Nomad)

LYRICS:

Freedom be when dem fi allow osmosis process 
How de solvent ocean  
Washing we to coast 
Stop membranes from closing 
Spontaneous, aim fi your concentrated pouch  

We floating 
You noticed 
De motion 
We focused 
Osmosis 

Migration of course dey like osmosis process 
We comot from ocean  
Bodies bleed revolt 
Stop the walls dem growing  
Lungs dey breathe the salt, 
All the nameless ghosts 
We woke with  
Emotions 
Devotion    
Open 
Osmosis 

Freedom be when dem fi allow osmosis process 

Black man dey travel go unravel de resources dem snavel, 
Come see how e hard
Racism ropes humanity under attack  
We wey we dark, light dreams for the tracks 
Wise man say look inside for the facts  
Deep down you fi find the happiness you dey lack 
empty stomach no dey work like dat 
Job with yo factory card monthly 
As time reach we go agree on de cash 
Mouthful of flowers for forgotten graves 
Stamped all aches in a passport page 
Float on ballot boxes where pirates plague
Cocoa farmer for chop Swiss chocolate
Ancestors baked, show us proper cake 
You chop cash crops, our farmlands break
Human osmosis - open a permeable mind state

What be common be de compact shuts 
Constant acts by constructs that encompass us 
Stalwart partitions, forced to cast, 
Monster tacts,  yo contract dat 
We born to last, wonna culture black
The ultra blast, obnoxious rust 
The haunting past, unconscious marks,
They drown in mass, dey got our back 
Dey warm our hearts, We dodge attacks
The raft jam-packed, we lost our cards 
We know for fact, obstructed path, 
Ei no add up, dem wan subtract, 
Yo old gold heart , dem wan ransack 
Yo mind and art, the bronze and brass 
To let light in, why restrain 
Human osmosis - open a permeable mind state

Human Osmosis (prod. King Stunn, vox. Quayba)

Jessica Care Moore: 
Me, me, me, me
I'm that nappy headed girl who can tell you your future in that jar blue afro sheen
Written off ghetto Carolina geeky, need me name your fears by first name
Representing the best of game, hot mouth bringing like she got some
Honey wine in her pocket
Hiding poetry under old severed locks
Growing roots under bushy ponytails
And this is who you're marrying
This is who you marry, Mary 
The woman you found too familiar
Reminding you too much of what you represent in this country
Aint it hard baby, aint it hard baby, being as beautiful as we are
Masquerading king chameleon skin when African canvas glows in the dark 
I bit off a piece of the ark 
That's why Black womens are doubly smart, are doubly smart
Be cussing you out in pairs 
Got ivy growing from under our hair 
Damn Jessica don't you smile child for a little while 
This morning I was on the front lines of the food stands for selling our babies food covered in plastic saran 
Make your own man ashamed to hold your hand
Come back casualty casually deserting the desert to
Taste exotic waters when I'm the well, well well
Now I need new religions, chakra protection plants 
Maps to the centre of the earth, make a right at the birth mark 
Accelerate when you smell fresh arrogant
Speaking as a sexy breathing technique so I'm a silent freaker
Slow leak, you can easily ignore if you're not listening for the drip in the middle of the night 
Give me a reason to write, give me a reason to write 
This is my bout, I'll fight for you lover, language breaker 
Suburban night danger, international invader, knocking on all the wrong doors 
For you I'm always at war, always at war, always at war, always at war, always at war, always at war, always at war...

Abena Boahemaa:
I have many more questions for you
But our conversations know nothing of brevity
They have disregarded the moon and consumed entire nights
The first time we hung out with the constellations
They stayed bright eyed as long as they could burn but eventually started blinking in fatigue
Before we were close to turning in, the stars turned over to sleep 
Pulling around them the entire blanket of night
By the time we tiptoed to bed, there was neither cover nor sheet of darkness left so we slept with our legs exposed to the edges of sunrise
I have many more questions to ask but our conversations have an appetite that does not respect the body's need to sleep
They are ill-suited for the obligations of this life
The 6 AMs, the breakfast, the ironing, the making of bed, 
All there is time for is quick morning prayer with bowed head cuz Lord knows You know better than to stay up until unGodly hours shadowing constellations
You and I both know that this late night courting of chemistry is impractical 
It is incompatible with tomorrow 
Tomorrow demands its own portion of our time
You and I both know that although these moments are magical
Tomorrows are necessary 
I have many more questions for you 
But I'll hold the rest behind my teeth 
So if I start to speak with a lisp
It's because I'm trying to restrain a river between my lips

Black Monologues w/ Jessica Care Moore, Abena Boahemaa (prod. Ivan Awesome)

Between Bars w/ Lamont Carey (prod. Kniitei)

LYRICS:

Capitalism sways a long arm 
Statutes and statues, long pipeline alarms 
Imperialist underground mountain of scams 
Military ptsd, indirect guns 
Popes and pulpits, chokes and vomit, ropes and culprits, 
Evoking voters out of uninformed ones 
Indirect political plugs, gloves and gauntlets 
Transnational corporation, continuation of covenants
Developing country constricts
CIA interfering in governments
GI Joeing intertribal conflicts 
Country interest, peaceful pickpockets 
Multilateral institution prospects
Cheap labor saviour, Jesus lobbyists
Raw material chaser, pests and poison
New global order disorganising the conscious 

(Mbaa yɛ tɔ yaba yatima)

Economic aid rainchecks 
Cashcrop mineral remainders 
Rapid expansion of the nameless
Ghost name garnering 
World war traders 
Dependency theory makers
Perpetually negative balance locations 
Global market place liquidation 
Walter Rodney educated us
Marxist Leninist underfakers 
Kwame Nkrumah reading the last stage of imperialism to naked neighbours 
A circle of deaf gut scrapers 
West African cocoa land takers 
Foreign aid sucking states  
High rate of interest band players

History no go forget our voices
Hyped encroacher noises , natural reserve destroyers
History no go record our silence
Denial of right pythons, social cleavages violence
History no go forget our voices
History no go record our silence

Lef We So (w/ Dearly Deported Band)

LYRICS:

Because the universe is a case study misunderstood to be moving in reverse and you’re the source of a river 

Between a myth and a dream 
Between a lisp and a scream 

there’s something inside you that’s real 
that unravels something about we 

There’s a riot in your throat and untouchable stardust under your feet 
There’s a heartquake 3 ribs above your kidney and spring flowers under your tongue 
There’s a gated morgue roofed with tainted cloth in your memory and a century old moon beam running from ear to ear 
There’s a cultured chaos outsourced by raiders in the shelves of your shoulders and spontaneous sunlight wherever hair sprouts on your scalp 
There’s research for a singular vision, a particular mission, a unified theory before the mirror and swollen sense of music under your thumbs 
There’s a banner bearing words like divergent, contradictory, incoherent, paradoxical, delirious over your forehead and miles of miracles on your mind 

There’s something about being lost written all over the aquarium of your thoughts and there’s something about you that identifies itself as love
There’s a cornerstone of broken bones in your morning poems and there’s something about your trained touch that makes room for unheard aching voices 
There’s an impending cataclysm behind the liquid crystal screens of your eyes and untapped joy within the circumference of your jaws 
There’s a lawmaker colonizing all the rainbows around your nipples and untamed truth all over your tastebuds 
There’s this scientific, technological, and artistic reach for the minerals under your skin and the immortal, infinite, and selfsame sun you breathe 
There’s a tumorous archive of ghosts in your yesterday and God in your first morning gasp

About We (prod. Rice Master Yen, vox. Quayba)

LYRICS:

Nfie nan biaa 
yɛ to ma mo nso monnyɛ hwiaa 
wotina apakam wo gye nkyea 
twa woa bɔ wo nyɛ woa sɛdiɛ

Nfie nan biaa 
Yɛ to ma mo biomua , yea kyea 
Nea ogu efuo so enhu edua ba 
Yɛnnyɛ mmoa na woe bu yɛ nkwasia 

Are you a Party activist? - display a poster 
Are you a proper lobbyist - donate some dollars 
You be election publicist - attend our meetings 
Congress lyricist - door to door greetings 

Political mites, mouth submissions  
Police bribes, fraud religion 
fund-raising, backwards vision 
Vote leaflets, dodgy printing 
Foot soldiers on the mission  
You tell we say we all winning 
The process no be convincing 
Wonna protests you no listen 
No focus, no precision 
More locusts, wrong decisions 
Dem throw we in dem prisons 
You fi steal more so you different 
shoulderpads of non-fulfillment
Jokers job condescending 
The campaigns, the champagne, the waiting, debates 
Untarred lanes, the ranting, the same thing, be fate? 
We want change, the complaints, brain drain, mistakes
Your mansions, fake functions, deviations, GH 
The nonsense expanding, we facing decay 
The modern day dungeons, the slavery replayed 
Ambulances lined for drone cameras 
Healthcare abroad for yo parliament  
Reflects you dey turn yo back on us 
Our confidence against yo cowardice 

Politics always objective be offensive 
Bowls for Offertory concerts for collections 
Dem forget colleges Nkrumah built for progeny 
Dem give we nothing, dem give we promises
'83 famine, pots without porridges 
Highjacking state pockets, rich and complicit 
Biz yo old boy what be June 4th for Rawlingses 
Or cocaine to kokonte, koti offices
Verandah boys activism 1946 
talking drums tap for trendsetters talking sense 
coup was bloodless, Kutu Acheampong took office then 
Most had the coffers spent, most had incompetence 
Operation Feed Yourself, importing roughages 
Education potholes, nepotism companies   
Reflects you kraa dey turn yo back on us 
Beyond return to rotten continent

Aduro bɛgye woa gye sɛ atere ma 
Nfie apem nie yennhu agyenkwa

Nfie Nan Biaa (prod. Saint Pagré)

LYRICS

Tanya Evanson:
Plant the plantain
Throw the seeds down
Avocado campaign
Land speaks to young and old now 

Plant the plantain
Avocado campaign
Land speaks to young and old, the seeds down
Throw the seeds down
Throw the seeds down

While waiting for land
Grow yourself open hand
Pepper, palm, produce and sand
Throw the seeds down
Throw the seeds down

Kwame Write: 
Mo ndua ennuaba 
Wo ne wo nua
Wo noa a ɛbɛ bene
Dabɛn ne kyena

Wo ne asaase 
Mooko ntɔkoa 
Woabɔ adegya na woowi wonsa

Food is a force 
Resource from source 
Feed the planet, plant it. Trees

Tanya:
Feed your neighbour water with your own blood, you dig it?
A tree in your name, children's future. A resource from the source, of the source, from the source...
All thumbs are green 
Open original hand
The planet's original band

Grow yourself free now 
Dig yourself out now 
Water us clean now 

Get out the downtown 
Throw dem seeds down 
Throw the damn seeds down

Kwame:
Cocoa Tetteh Quarshie 
Pawpaw from Ketekrachie
Moko ɛne bankye 
Green kontomire mogya duro
Farming for urban folks you know
Water the seeds down

Bitter leaf, bitter lemon, sweat sweet, 
spirit xylem, baobab feet, 
down to earth for photosynthesized food we eat
grow a tree town, free town
grow yourself free now 

Human body and soul, rebirth
Human volcanoes, our bodies libation to earth

kwame write

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