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passion fruit - george the poet lyrics

my city has a lot of faces. it’s a place where self-pity hasn’t got a basis. innovation doesn’t come at a decent price, but look hard enough and you’ll be surprised. see, on a council estate you’d think “every other person has a mouthful of hate.”
and we never really learn how to debate, we just shout to relate or have a bout with a mate. but we embrace misconceptions, we don’t make excuses, knowing adversity gets the creative juices flowing. when the local area’s the target sp-ce we can separate the art from the market place and keep it pure. premature. like nothing that you have seen before. some of us have been on an uncharted journey. to all the latecomers this one started early. out of this crazy location came the wonder of the pirate radio station. jungle became garage, garage became grime, married to the streets, how did this marriage remain fine?
we were forced to manage and tame crime, challenge to aim high and balance the game right. and we were allowed to be mad at the same time. we just said how we were feeling and it became rhyme. we definitely deserve every blessing that we have earned, but there’s still a bigger lesson that we have learnt:

no matter how difficult the game, you can always rise to critical acclaim

this place raised me, so i stick to what i know, and that’s exactly why you can picture what i flow. when you’re in the paradox of a fiery storm, paralysed in a place that parasite entirely swarmed, think about the heat it takes for iron to be warmed, think about the pressure required for diamond to be formed. we’re the lucky ones … we’re the lucky ones. do you know why?
cause when you struggle to keep up consumerism and fashion is brutal. you might start to doubt whether ration is truthful. life is sweet when your p-ssion fruitful. different countries and different colours, sisters and brothers given to mothers, significant others, from the butcher to the baker that baked the pancake, give me a handshake: you helped shape the landscape, even if you think you didn’t play a major part, even if you had a change of heart, you touched my world when you played your part. you changed my life when you played your part. all we had was art and self-belief. before all of this we never felt relief. and that initially affected the image that we projected, from how we handled difference to how we dealt with beef. we’re the lucky ones. we’re the lucky ones. see, my city has a lot of faces. even the sunny days start off cold. see, my city has a lot of races: it’s a treasure chest with a heart of gold. so, take heed. take heart. take hold of my hand and we’ll take over the land, please, -ssist me in taking a hold … of making history and breaking the mould. we’re breaking the mould. in my city come along for the ride

- george the poet lyrics

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