I'm a very conscious Jamaican sista.
I come deep-rooted like ganja.
A truth-speaker and a truth-seeker.
A lover of life and everything that contains therein.
I can spot an enemy the same way that I can recognize a friend; and I'll have you know that, ...mankind didn't make me, so mankind can't break me.
I partake of only healthy foods, I don't insert tubes: don't need nothin' to mess up my brain, take away my gain.
I'm all-natural, organic, hand-pressed; but never repressed, depressed or regret.
I never miss a beat, I feel the streets: I wrote the lyrics to the concrete.
I've lived the lives of ten-thousand men.
I've died and raised and lived it again.
An independent sista, a till my own soil sista, AIN'T tryin' to be down with NO MISTA, my own rule maker, a true heartbreaker.
My eyes sit vigilant on my face, body full of grace, speech superb from lips with a honey-like taste.
My sister locks protrude: speaking the truth of my roots.
Brown skin, where mine ends, my soul-mate's should begin.
Poetry fills me, spills me, rewinds me, unwinds me, feeds me, needs me. When I lay me down to sleep, I wake up with a song and a movie of the week.
I reside in the deep; I open my mouth and my soul speaks: proliphic things, prophetic things, my conversations bring constructive things.
If you met me, you know me, 'cause I can't fake me, can't shake me, must be me, must be FREE.
For I am who I am: no greater, no smaller.
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