English transcript

From the streets of Tehran to the avenues of D.C.

This isn't about hate, it's about the truth.

I love your soul, America, but I can't stand your throne.

Listen.

Listen.

I wake up in Tehran, but I'm wearing your brands.

Listening to Wu-Tang while I'm washing my hands.

Of the propaganda fed by the man in the suit.

I love the fruit of your culture, just not the root.

Of your foreign intervention, I grew up on your films.

Dreaming of NYC, the lights in the realms.

The freedom you preach, I love the jazz and the blues.

But I hate how your leaders put my brothers on the news.

As a target, a number, a threat, and a folder.

While we're just two kids getting older and colder.

I love the land of the free, but not the men in the halls.

I love the spirit of the street, not the height of your walls.

Between your flag and my home, there's a bridge made of gold.

But your leaders keep burning every story we've told.

Yeah, I love the stars.

But I hate the stripes they draw on my skin.

You talk about liberty, but you lock the gate.

With sanctions that don't hit the elite, only the plate.

Of the mothering knights behind, trying to buy bread.

Your leaders aim for the crown, but hit the worker instead.

I love the American dream, the work and your rise.

But your senate's maximum pressure is just slow motion demise.

Medicine's scarce and the currency's floor-bound.

How can I cheer for the eagle when it's pinning me down?

I love your people's heart, their drive and their grit.

But your White House pen, I got no love for it.

I love the land of the free, but not the men in the halls.

I love the spirit of the street, not the height of your walls.

Between your flag and my home, there's a bridge made of gold.

But your leaders keep burning every story we've told.

Yeah, uh.

Let's open the books, let's go back to the source.

Before the hostage crisis and the cycle of force.

Remember 53? Mosadagg and the coup.

Your leaders broke our democracy before it was new.

I love the way the people written on your scroll.

But your CIA played a different kind of role.

You install a king, then you act all surprised.

When the fire you started burns right in your eyes.

I love the constitution, the way it was meant.

But not the way your leaders bypassed consent.

Yeah, yeah.

I got cousins in Cali and friends in Detroit.

While the hawks in the Pentagon look for gaps to exploit.

They want us to hate, they want a wall made of glass.

But we're both just the victims of a ruling class.

I love your protests, the way you take to the street.

To tell your own leaders their lies are obsolete.

We're fighting the same fight, just different skies.

Searching for truth in a forest of lies.

I love the American soul, it's vibrant and deep.

But your warmongering lobby makes the whole world weep.

So this ain't a death to, it's a life to the core.

Of a bridge built on art, not a vessel for war.

Keep your drones in the hangar, keep your threats on the shelf.

I love your land like I'm learning to love myself.

But to the men in the high chairs, the brokers of pain.

Your legacy's rust and your profit is stain.

I keep the hip-hop, the poets, the Pacific shore.

But your imperial shadow, we don't want it no more.

Yeah.

Peace to the Bronx.

Peace to Shiraz.

One world, two cages.

Time to break the bars.