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Y'all Need a Reminder To Be Against Genocide?

by Free Radicals

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The bomb droppers, Air decreasers, rape and pillagers, couldn't care less about Mother Earth, Or the worth of human life. The Bible, the rifle, the Koran, the rivals, Holy turf wars. SCUDS, bombs, children, moms, Left behind enemy lines, Invasion, persuasions from the right path The aftermath, the bloodbaths. All in the name of liberation, of the poor downtrodden, miseducated heathens waiting to be killed to be freed. Dum Dums come in a variety of flavors, primarily overpaid tyrants and dictators. Presidents thriving surviving off the blood Sweat and tear of innocent bystanders being bombed. How can we change and rearrange history to tell the truth of humanity, vanity, and the affairs of free trade, Air Force raids, aerosol sprays, Mother Earth's breath taken away. With oxygen tanks, be ready to walk the tanks for the bomb droppers. During the occupation, we had a preoccupation with going nuts. We had to eat the shells with the nuts. We had to sell our jewels. We were stuck in the Attic which was hot as hell, stuck in our ruts and feeling unwell. We had to climb into our shells and not show our true selves until our true selves were untrue to us. 
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From Palestine to Ferguson, from Oak Forest to Sugar Land, from Third Ward to Galveston, white hands drew red lines in the sand.  First you moved us over here, now you want our land for your own. Our next place? You'll want that too. Each time, it seems your appetite has grown.  Inside your gated communities, segregated and isolated, faces illuminated by screens, electronically inundated.  Scared voters will elect gentrifiers peddling hate and fears. Past policies still affect where we live and who we live near.  You think you're some kind of scientist? With craniometries, cartologies? A PhD in urban planning? Still some strange fruit dripping from your Poplar trees.  I would have hoped that long ago, you would have outgrown your propensity to celebrate western civilization as the culmination of genetic destiny.  The social contract was never signed. The 40 acres was never paid. White hands wrote the peace treaties, but the white side was the one that disobeyed.  You own the deeds, the papers, the laws, you own the words in which they're written. You got the cops, the troops, the dogs, we got the asses being bitten.
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(Lindi Yeni) What did you stop me for? Oh, you want to see my pass... My identity card. (EQuality) Checkpoint from here to Palestine on the front lines by government design. Armed tanks and a gun in my face, when I'm just trying to make it home to put some food on my plate. Human rights or human hate? A different country? Same police state. Cape Town, H-Town, duck down! The cops are all around. Be quiet, don't make a sound. The sound of the police, the sound of the beast. Roadblocks in the streets from the West to the East. We got to war for peace? Who me? I'm Aimé Césaire when I beast over beats. The mathematical slash free and radical. Speaking anti-colonial, solemnly at the podium. Checkpoints, check the score, checkmates when I check the board. The police want the knights, bishops, rooks, kings, queens, checked for sure. (Jitsvinger translated from Afrikaans) Jitsvinger, that's the name. I bring the thriller on the rhythm, mic is on. Shoot a film with the lyric, you like the sound? Worldwide, move smart with the thespians. Free Radicals, the beat makes you want to wriggle. Transcend across borders (artificial). We come through on time and full of flavors. My jam is a bomb laced for lawmakers. Steel wheels with Nazi rims scrapes the locations. Dividing nations, it's abominable Colonized my name on paper Forefathers become bastards with black pigment Oppressed in the name of resources and minerals My kinfolk is woke since the VOC* and before that * (Dutch East India Company) I'm primed -- Every word is a shot, recognize! Check us out, we step across borders Endgame for the elite's pawns and every piece on the chessboard Gatekeepers be warned -- And to the bourgeoise: wise up New checkpoint! (Lindi Yeni) You want to see if I have a right to be in the urban areas of South Africa. Let me tell you something.... Prince Alfarra (translated from Arabic) In all the alleys, in the alleyways of streets, barriers prevent the dreams of residents and farmers A pretext for the protection of a state that was established at the expense of a people that it does not care about How do you expect me to wish peace or surrender to its tyranny? Palestinian, my kuffiyah is my address, and your barriers will never be able to erase that. Build your barriers, with my will I will break them, my people love death as much as you love living I am still holding the key to return. I promised my grandfather before he died that I would return So don't imagine that you will reside here forever My people insist on freedom even if they have to sacrifice many Palestinian, my resolve, my religion. A mountain stays steadfast...  O wind, hear me?! (Lindi Yeni) I am a native of this country. I am a daughter of the soil. You brutally pushed my people into the worst part of our country. And you dare ask me for a permit? Let me tell you something. I burned your bloody Dompass!
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During the occupation, we had a preoccupation with going nuts. We had to eat the shells with the nuts. We had to sell our jewels. We were stuck in the Attic which was hot as hell, stuck in our ruts and feeling unwell. We had to climb into our shells and not show our true selves until our true selves were untrue to us. So, being the whatever we are that we are, we ask them to leave. But, then someone was afraid they might never come back. So we caved in, put up with their lousy table manners, such as the clattering of dishes, the tattletale signs on the scales of the fishes, the tablecloth tears, the splattering of stuff on the stairs, the scuffing up of cuffs, the flushing of the flares, the hairs and fluff in our drains, the cares in our brains is if we hadn't had enough, the pushing around with their canes of our earthly remains, the putting on of masks, the putty made from clams in casks, the claims on our poor puttering old Eternal paternal grandfather, the reliance on the grandfather clause despite all its flaws, the incest with the in-laws, the becoming of because, the sipping of something thick through straws, the cat calls from the claustrophobic strobe light closet that woke us up after a late night deposit, the no deposit no return policy of the Return of the Native Nativity scene, the policy of permitting polygraphs in our naive scene, the secret police at the scene of the scenic overhang, the scene by scene, Blow by blow breakdown of our nervous breakdown and the bad breakup thing, the break-ins in the pantry, the scandals that wore through our sandals and seemed so slanty after the scanty learning we got in college, the freaks from rhe shanty town, the frenzied fear when the sun goes down, the free love and frottage that some suspected went on out in the cottage, although we never went out there because we were too nervous that the night patrol might pass, that the snakes in the grass might try to put a cap in our collective ass, so instead we collared our corollaries and collaborated, collecting samples to the many analytical critic passed, we would attain critical mass, and explode and implode until we are at an inane impasse, and were granted asylum, put in insane asylums along with the other infectious fellows from our phylum, put under lock and key in the penitentiary, put down and pissed on when we had to pee, then they put up our parole sessions until after the next century, put us in the center of the yard with three three armed armed sentries with us and their gun sights, put us into little cells until we got into fist fights, and we couldn't put up with it anymore, and we agreed to their terms, their terminology, and their terminal illness.
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Afterlife 02:13
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Screaming 03:02
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about

With new remixes, remasters, and re-imagining, Free Radicals sends our anti-genocide music about Israel and Palestine to the world, and to our rapper and friend Beesh in Gaza. Without a phone, electricity, food or water, and with bombs dropping all around him and his daughter, we hope he's still alive and not in pain.

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released November 28, 2023

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Free Radicals Houston, Texas

Free Radicals sends a new collection of Palestine solidarity and anti-genocide music to the world, and to our rapper and friend Beesh in Gaza.
Without a phone, electricity, food or water, and with bombs dropping all around him and his daughter, we hope he's still alive and not in pain.
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