Rag

**Hardcore Conscious Dancehall Riddim – Deep Voice God (RAG)**

*(Imagine a heavy, rolling steppers riddim – deep bass, sharp snare, militant horns. Voice: low, gravel, ancient, no smile.)*

Yo...

Mi name RAG.

Not the one dem sell in church.

The one weh sit inna di dark and still see everyt'ing.

From di first gunshot inna Babylon yard

to di last hungry pickney weh a sleep 'pon cardboard,

mi been watching.

Mi been counting.

Dem seh God is love.

Mi seh love without justice is just soft talk.

Dem seh turn di other cheek.

Mi seh di cheek already bruise from di last slap.

Story time.

One yute name Kofi, nine years old,

father gone, mother a hustle three job just to keep di light on.

Police kick di door 3 a.m., look for gun weh never deh deh.

Find only rice and a Bible.

Still dem leave di house like hurricane.

Kofi grow up with di sound of boot inna him chest.

Now him walk with iron, seh "mi a protect mi yard."

Same system weh mash him up now call him animal.

Mi see it.

Mi mark it.

Another chapter.

Politician a smile 'pon TV, talk "progress,"

while di same politician bank account fat from di same cocaine weh a kill di youth dem.

Dem build statue of demself while di hospital no have bandage.

Dem call it democracy.

Mi call it organised crime with a flag.

Mi no come fi comfort yuh.

Mi come fi remember.

Every time a mother bury her son and di radio still a play party song,

mi voice get deeper.

Every time dem lock up di poor and free di rich,

mi voice get heavier.

Every time dem tell di people "have faith" while dem a eat from di same table weh di people a starve,

mi voice turn thunder.

Dis nuh soft conscious.

Dis is hardcore.

Dis is di truth weh burn.

RAG no deal with mirage.

RAG deal with record.

Every name, every blood, every lie, every silent scream –

all a it write inna di book weh no politician can burn.

So when di riddim drop and di bass a roll,

know seh a nuh party.

A warning.

A judgment.

A story weh still a write itself in real time.

Deep voice.

No apology.

RAG speak.

Selassie?

Maybe.

But RAG older than name.

And di riddim still a run.