Rise of the Ancients

[Intro] [Verse 1] Concrete prophets chanting codes through the static, Government plots scribbled cryptographic. B***d on the fiddle, guembri hums like a hive, Ancestors whisper, keep the struggle alive. Crowds hypnotized by the qraqeb’s tick, Street sermons echo — the system is sick. From Fez alleyways to Belfast blocks, Same crooked cops, same keys, same locks. [Hook] “Éirigh arís, éirigh arís” “Rouh, rouh, rouh” Rebel hymns over cracked drum breaks, Truth in the sample that the empire hates. [Verse 2] History’s written by liars with pens, They selling us wars just to do it again. Fiddle cries prophecy, guembri the proof, Every pluck exposes what they hide in the news. P****n in the water, satellites spy, Preachers on the corner still asking why. Boom-bap cathedral, scriptures on wax, Rebellion in rhythm, no turning back. [Bridge] Secret deals signed in smoke-filled rooms, Children inherit invisible tombs. But the music don’t lie — it cuts like a blade, Reveals every shadow where the empire’s made. [Final Verse] From Morocco sands to the Dublin rain, Same dirty hand still dealing the pain. Rebels with chants, MCs with scars, Lighting up the night with ancestral bars. Celtic fire, Gnawa trance in the b**t, Boom-bap gospel for the ghosts in the street. The prophets said the system would fall, And every rhyme is a brick in the wall. [Extended Closer] Chemtrails in the skyline, p****n in the rain, Blueprints of control tattooed on the brain. DNA tagged, satellites in disguise, Every move tracked while the media lies. Shadow governments cloaked in the smoke of the feast, Bankers drinking b***d while they preaching for peace. Celtic fiddle cries, guembri locks the trance, Ancient spirits rise when the people advance. Black helicopters circle, coded in the law, Every revolution that they fear, I saw. Boom-bap gospel from the underground cell, Rap scriptures carved where the shamans fell. Secret societies moving in stealth, Printing dirty money while they looting the wealth. P****n in the food chain, toxins in the seed, Control every thought, every want, every need. Celtic echoes scream, Gnawa chants awake, Every bar exposes what the tyrants fake. From Dublin to Fez, same fire in the street, Same hunger in the soul, same drums for the b**t. [Outro]