Hey playa, what you sayin’? Won’t you quit playin’?  Stacking chips mile high, long range Rovers and a hundred toy soldiers, but what you sayin’? Do you really have it made in the shade or when the cops come do you yell like roaches, “RAID!”?  If you got pulled over, doing 60 in a 55, could a square, queer officer reduce your funds to half by simply finding an ounce of this or piece like that?  Could you do 3-5, cause the judge won’t budge and the bar has already been set?  Drinks on you. Now you got to ask permission to take a piss and some under cover wop is driving your wip and his kids playing your Nintendo. 

That scenario is all too common.  Black man rises against all the odds, in defiance of all downpression, only to meet an established system of piracy, which rapes and lynches him, then divides his spoils to insure their continued domination.  Sure you got your break through artists, in pursuit of happiness, that manage to climb the ladder designated for the ‘elect’ and actually breath air untainted by the scum and the dung that most of us must endure even when our fortresses seem impenetrable.  But the vast majority of brothers holding any real paper ain't that kid, and they don't have a wicked jump shot. Instead they live the American nightmare and let the real dream slip them by. For instance, the price of a house in the Hamptons could build a 6 bedroom mansion on your own mile long beach in Ghana.  The cost of about half  your jewels could buy a concession of land, embedded with gold or diamonds, also in Ghana.  And for the cost of one court case, you could buy off a complete police station in your local district.  With that kind of play your inclined to dig deeper and come up with more.  What it took to hold down a block might translate into a town or an industry.  The Lebanese control food importation and distribution, the Indians control plastic manufacturing that every Ghanaian uses daily, the Italians control the major construction contracts, and the Americans and the Europeans are still excavating our gold and minerals at will.  Even the Chinese have cornered our markets with the infiltration of inferior products. Why?   Africa is wide open and even the roaches have a vested interest, so why are brothers neglecting their calling?  Why risk your life to hustle when you can take those same skills and truly multiply?   Where are my mayors, brick layers, triple-my-worth-anywhere-on-God's-Earth sayers?  It's on you, what's up!

I recently met one such brother who got wise to the game a long time ago.  Feeling the intensity of Babylon's heat, he dipped into South America and came up in the French Riviera 6 years later. Now he’s  a Hummy driven, showboat having, race horse riding international Playa, who didn't forget his roots and wanted to touch down.  He finally just put the excuses aside and copped the next business class to Ghana. Once he landed he took in the Atlantic Ocean from which his father’s fathers left in the belly of the beast.  Taken back, at first, by the poor infrastructure and the unattractiveness of the chaotic city in full swing, he began yearning for the more familiar comforts that he was so accustomed to.  But once fate took its course and he tapped into his mission, Ghana began to open up to him like an oyster.  A man of many talents, he realized, with his vast array of equipment and his knowledge, he could very well make an even greater come up in Ghana.  With his brains and his game, God knows he couldn't loose.

In this man I saw the next phase of the movement beginning.  The  fore-runners are in place, the foundation is set, now it is time for our high rollers to role, our moguls, to introduce game, our magnates, to set up shop and our children to reap the seeds of our bountiful land. Time for the collaboration of minds of all different kinds to effect the resurrection in Africa that is written.  

The stage is set, Africa awaits her Creators, the heavens await their Gods.