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Lyrics
[Intro]
Grandma said
“Boy, you walk like you royal”
I laughed, but I felt it in my shoulders
Still feel it
[Verse 1]
I move slow, head high through the heat
Gold tooth flash when I speak my piece
Country boy, but my blood run deep
Way past creek water and the red clay streets
Skin like obsidian, story like scripture
Ancient in my face, see the clan in the picture
Say my name, sound sharp, sound coastal
Like frankincense smoke in a Ford on local
I’m that tall tale cousin at the cookout table
Turn a front yard fold-out to a fable
From Section 8 ceilings to incense tents
From food stamps lines to caravan rents
Talk black coffee, talk burnt plantains
Talk kushite kings in my cheekbones, mane
Every step I take in these busted Nikes
Got a whole fleet of ships walkin’ right beside me
[Chorus]
I’m a Horn of Africa heart in the South
Ancient Somalis in the way I move around
From the dirt roads all the way to the sound
I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown
(yeah, yeah)
Head high, half-raspy when I talk my truth
Got the past in my posture, future in my roots
From the Horn to the hood, it’s the same damn proof
I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown
[Verse 2]
Grew up where the sheriff ride slow, eyes cold
Mama kept a Bible by the stove, pot gold
I was in the mirror with a durag tight
See a desert in my pupils and a porch at night
We the same ones guarding every trade route
Now I’m guardin’ my mind from the hate out
Ancient sailors, young hustler
Both had to measure every stranger that come up to ya
Cousins got grills, cousins got degrees
Cousins got warrants, cousins overseas
Still, when we laugh, that sound feel old
Like drum circles under fluorescent poles
I be in the booth talkin’ cash and pain
Talkin’ tribe and chain, talkin’ loss and gain
Half croak in my throat, half lion roar
Like a griot in a trap spot by the corner store
[Chorus]
I’m a Horn of Africa heart in the South
Ancient Somalis in the way I move around
From the dirt roads all the way to the sound
I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown
(oh yeah)
Head high, half-raspy when I talk my truth
Got the past in my posture, future in my roots
From the Horn to the hood, it’s the same damn proof
I’m a black man walking like a lost old crown
Details
GeneratedFeb 18, 2026
Duration2:49
LanguageEnglish
Style
rap, Moody Southern rap beat with swung hi-hats, warm sub bass, and eerie vocal samples; verses in a half-raspy male vocal with relaxed triplet flows and occasional double-time spurts. Hook lifts with layered ad-libs and a simple chant, 808s hitting harder and a bright lead synth doubling the melody. Final chorus strips back to drums and bass, vocal sitting raw and upfront., hip hop
Credits
Prompt by
HbKeed
HbKeedModelAria v5
Prompt
A southern rap about how i move through life as a black man comparing myself to ancient somalis, rap, trap, hip hop, half raspy
