Move

I grew up in a council flat next door to the National Front It wasn't 'til I was six years old, I realised they were racist cunts The more they read, and the more they believe Just behind Page 3 in The Sun I went down the Olympic Village But I still can't fucking outrun that shit like Fam, it was South East London Used to jam down East or West Come through North on the Edgware branch But we never fit in those ends Never knocked for those friends 'cause they never welcomed us in those places Never needed to go down Kent 'Cause Bermondsey was bloodclart racist It was hard times, when the Windrush came up Quicker than a raindrop, more like a flood It was hard times, when our mums had to work two jobs, ever hustlin', getting in the grub Yeah, it's hard times, Brixton race riots turned us lot inside out, try us Hard times Still too many black faces in the prisons The shots and the silence We've seen it all before We'll see it all again And we'll say we're sorry Move I once heard a short account that When it rains, it floods But it took at least two hundred years To stop the rush of blood But even now, they march the streets They claim to keep the peace Fascists, protected by police Will Stockwell Moments ever cease? The firebombs keep coming And they'll keep coming still Every time that news reporters claim British blood was spilled And like native, sovereign terrorists We fight until we're killed But Well, nothing's well under the sun And they told me, you'd better Move There are obviously problems When you're so fuckin' embattled That making your way through life's A hassle And even when the chains you rattle are slack You're still shackled With mind-forg'd manacles The Daily Mail down palace walls Submissive - but with modern tools Shoot a n*gger dead, copper Proper easy mark And then condemn the racial tension When you lit the fucking spark And like a man jumping a barrier Means police can jump the shark Well Nothing's well under the sun 'Cause when I got tings to say, I write bars In five parts And I lay it out on an album I don't waste time thanking my stars I push past Like Mandela and Malcolm 'Cause if we don't keep it up Dem merciless And I can predict the outcome It's either back to the steel pan drums Or we shall overcome Move