It was a slow, massive roar. A dense wall-of-sound that couldn't possibly be made by one person, no matter how many microphones were hooked up to how many speakers. A scratchy, grainy blend of
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Momma always told me akangi funi emakhoneni
Sonke kodwa siyazi ukuthi angeke uyi thole use 'khoneni
But really I wasn't looking to get paid ekhoneni
Thought of it like recess more of an escape
Although she did her best, I lacked role models
Found myself swimming to the bottom of the bottle
Running from myself hit the gas, full throttle
And eventually I had to hit rock bottom
Kodwa ekhoneni me and the homie chop it up
And really all he told me was to never give up
Though life can throw hands
Remember you got hands too
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