FIFA, Brasil (2014)

You talk about hoop dreams but what happens when hoops are a foreign concept/

cause your government can’t afford metal circles or pavement

Pay men/

with machine guns to kill drug lords and pimps/

Corpses on the pavement with a metal circle in their chest making bodies limp

Move me out of the ghetto

My favela unpacified

With Shoot outs everyday/

Put me into the middle of the country like a needle in hay

So the/

millions of people flying to rio for two weeks

Will only be able to see hotels and shopping malls/

And not the dirt my cleats left on the concrete

I

am my country’s bastard child/

And when abortion did not take my life they decided not to teach me how to read speak or write/

So when you try to find my voice in protests on your tv screen/

Know that You will never hear my scream/

When the cameras turn off

When the people fly back to their television screens/

as my scream goes into a falsetto so high the dogs act like they don’t hear me,

You will hear the announcer say goodnight ladies and gentlemen until the next World Cup

And his smile will be seen across the world so pain must be universal/

cause the way I’m feeling the stars could collide

the moon could explode

the planet could crack

and maybe then/

your scream would reach the pitch of my scream

And I wouldn’t be the only one who doesn’t wear shoes so my little brother doesn’t walk on bare feet/

Who begs on streets so my mom can be a woman that no man beats/

Who plays soccer with goals full of gold mines that explode from my dreams when reality meets

Like they wanted to stop us from reaching higher

So they cut off our arms

As we continue to play with our feet/

Bounce soccer balls against thighs heads shoulders knees

We need a goal

but all we have are these nets

That are never full

Like how many millions did it cost to build a stadium to host the nations

When/

you removing the poor from

Their shacks made more vibrations than/ ten thousand cheering fans ever could

And left a trail of trash as long as the trail of tears

Like if we demolish the brothels

Bury the narcs

Move the trafficking underground

And kill the poster child

It would/ be like all the tv screens in the world went on mute

And the children were only screaming for the game

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