Rasta Never Die


When I was a lil’ boy of 14
I wanted to be jus’ like Brass
Big boots, jeans
Dreadlock Rasta – Jus like Brass

Before he became Brass
He was Gib
First Rastafarian to rock my hood
That’s when tingz were nice and easy
Life in Mwîmuto was good

Gib was a my Spiritual big bro
He was a Freedom Seeker
Great listener and deep thinker
Classic bike rider and easy talker
He had a hearty laughter

Gib ceased to be Gib
From his making of that shiny metal
This Rastaman became Brass
He became Papa Brass

Papa Brass knew everyone in the world
Papa Brass knew Tesfa and Bongoman
He knew Bookalaws and Natty King
He brought me Johnny Cool and now I’m
He knew Johnny Tall and everything that I now know
He taught me of Denis Brown Clinton
Fearon and G.I
Through his Reggae school
Of the Jah Youth Kreow
He taught me of Peter Tosh and the I Threes and I-Roy
I know he knew Bob Marley too
But chose to be modest about it

When I grow older
I will be jus’ like Papa Brass
A dreadlocks Rasta
I will know everything in the world
jus like Man Brass

Now that I’m older and a lil’ bit taller
I feel jus like Papa Brass
I’m a lil’ bit wiser
And I have a Rastaman swagger
I’m a better listener for sure
I’m a more patient human
I have a better sense of humour
I don’t wear a full-time hat like Brass
and I wish my Mau Mau Freedom hair
was exactly like Papa Brass’ – longer
My spirit strong like iron
I’m no longer weak coz like Brass
I have a heart of a Lion

Now Papa Brass is gone
Gone with the wind but in my heart he lives
I’m not just saying bye to
My brother and mentor
I’m not burying Brass somewhere
I’m planting a huge piece of Gold and Silver
To grow into a shrine of Love and Inity
A fountain that binds us in time
Time undefined
For now and for ever

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