[Intro] (Half-time 808, wind synths, distant matatu horn)
City light to savannah light, neon meets acacia line
From Nairobi steam to London rain, heartbeat on a slow-time rhyme (ah)
Matatu horn like old proverbs hum, dhow sails trim at night (swells)
Kenyan people — listen close, this is half-time, feel the bite (ad-lib: Asante, moyo)
[Verse 1]
Sunrise spills on Kericho slopes — tea steam, fingers stained
Women fold the dawn like stories, leaves picked, work sustained
Matatu horns cut through alley talk, colours flash, paint the road
Kibera stalls, mango skins, small change, bigger code
Mombasa lights — dhow lamps drum, salt on ribs, pesca pride
Kisumu mornings — lake breeze, fishermen haul the tide
Mount Kenya silhouette, crown of rock, sky-bent guard
Children trace the skyline with chalk, futures sketched, not charred
(half-time 808 hit, low sub wobble)
[Pre-Chorus]
Across the ferry and the ferry of planes, ties pull taut but kind
We carry home like pockets of light — memory tucked behind
Voices like stitched flags, swahili lullabies and grime
Kenyan people — steady breath, we turn the quiet into rhyme
[Chorus] (Hook — tight, singable)
Kenyan people — rise, shine, roar (Kenyan people — rise)
Tumeamka! (we've woken) — we step through every door (Tumeamka!)
Kenyan people — rise, shine, roar (Kenyan people — shine)
We write our future — beating the odds, we ask for more (beat: 808 clap)
(Ad-lib: Asante, moyo — repeat, distant reverb)
[Verse 2]
From Mombasa docks to London flats, matatu cadence in our step
Neon bus shelters host Swahili jokes and a memory kept
Mandem speak with Nairobi slang, mum’s call bridging time zones
Kisumu fish smoke to cockney toast, we thread our different homes
Tea on Kericho slopes to Earl’s Court cold cups, steam like kin
Dhow sails turned into umbrellas, wind still sings the hymn
Market stalls in Kibera taught me barter, rhythm and nerve
Now brick and mortar in Peckham hum — same hunger, new curve
(Production cue: soft synth lead, half-time hi-hat ghost)
[Bridge] (intimate)
Mama Wanjiru’s kettle at dawn — she calls my name in song
Her hands, the map of a country, taught my stubborn heart to long
For one small victory — a passport stamp, a letter home
I fold those wins in pockets — Mama, we are never alone
(whispered ad-lib: "Wanjiru, asante")
[Verse 3 — Rap, clipped half-time delivery]
Check the peak — Mount Kenya, crown heavy with cloud
Check the street — Nairobi grid, shouts, bargains loud
From the matatu driver beep to the Thames bridge beep-beep
We lace British bass with Swahili breaths, pulse slow, souls deep
Mandem with Diaspora dreams, hustle wired like wire
Neon blaze, long rains, we turn grit into fire
From market stall to record booth, from dhow to double-decker
Kenyan people never fold — we stitch the map, we check the ledger
(Ad-libs: "Tumeamka!" // "Asante, moyo")
[Chorus] (repeat — add call-and-response)
Kenyan people — rise, shine, roar (Kenyan people — rise)
Tumeamka! (Tumeamka!) — we step into a
