[Verse 1: Anthm]

Wish I could resurrect them soul singers

I pray to God that soul lingers

Nowadays leaders are clutching the torch with four fingers

No opposable thumbs

Has got a nigga closing his lungs

From hot air that's spoken by bums

No time for checkers

Strictly chess, we design the efforts

Final seconds we intertwine over vinyl records

Marvin Gaye

Let the music take you far away

Like single mothers on Father's Day

When it's hard to pray

In a drought you feel the pressure when you reach

But a drop of water can turn a desert to a beach

An oasis

Touch bases with those raised in rough places

Frustrated screaming, "fuck patience!"

The soundtrack to young cats who ain't around flags

But pledge allegiance to 40 ounces and brown bags

With their posse on the block

Rocking steady, never drop confetti

But they pants sag like they pockets heavy

Greet my neighbours see you later

I'm at the corner Bodega

They catered with that french vanilla flavor

Look at the crowd often

I see a child walkin'

Wish I could dethrone Tyler Perry and Al Sharpton

The cops are now parking right outside the school zone

Suspicion moves like a virus and now it's full blown

Back to my roots, I'm headed home

Grabbing a megaphone, black is beautiful in case you never known

[Hook]

I'm doing donuts in a taxi

360 panoramic views might relax me

Zoning in the back seat

Observing hip-hop no b-boy stance

Taking a New York to Detroit glance

Know what I'm talking 'bout?

I recruit from the booth to the inner city youth

We gon' be alright now I salute

To them freedom fighters

We got that soul let it reunite us

Eventually we gon' be the brightest

[Verse 2: Anthm]

Wish I could resurrect that soul music

Made for every soul that ever goes through it

Therapeutic how they infuse it, made it so fluid

Preaching to lost choirs

Dreams versus reality boost my thoughts higher

Caught up in the crossfire

I was inspired when this ink got spilled

44 years since King got killed

Look around, from prenatal to the cradle

To media portrayal

Guns and liquor stores to diabetes that be fatal

Wish we were headed back

To afros and leather clad cats with the fists up

Fighting for what they never had

Picture the streets, drug paraphernalia absent

Who's to blame for this failure to action?

This is hip-hop, modern day Mahalia Jackson

Shit is gospel in my stereo blastin', represent nigga!

Well, I think I got the resolution

Pick up where soul music left off, the evolution is us