No Discipline, No Freedom

You mine the gold, yet live in chains, Trade your soul for shallow gains. Your hunger rules, your mind is weak, And freedom’s price you never seek. You waste your fire chasing flesh, While others build and carve the flesh. Your leaders dance with foreign hands, Selling off your sacred lands. Discipline, black man, is the key— Not guns, not gods, but mastery. Unite, arise, let cowards drown, Or wear the beggar’s broken crown. No one will save this motherland— It lies in your own calloused hand.