Lyrics:
zvidhura Harisi banga iroro Ndini ndine banga Assegai, ndinocheka kunge assegai Ndini ndine banga Assegai, ndinobaya kunge assegai Muridzi webanga
Years ago in wild Africa (Ahom, ahom) When Shaka was the Zulu king (Ahom, ahom) All his men had short assegais (Ahom, ahom) Which they used
Years ago in wild Africa (Ahom, ahom) When Shaka was the Zulu king (Ahom, ahom) All his men had short assegais (Ahom, ahom) Which they used
Years ago in wild Africa (Ahom, ahom) When Shaka was the Zulu king (Ahom, ahom) All his men had short assegais (Ahom, ahom) Which they used
The war songs of the Impi With shield and assegai I is for the Impi Defender of the land Impi, Impi With assegai in hand I is for the Impi Defender
Years ago in wild Africa (Ahom, ahom When Shaka was the Zulu king (Ahom, ahom)) All his men had short assegais (Ahom, ahom) Which they used
one of those pins The moon is paper thin, it sticks in my eye (The moon is paper thin) How does a simple pin become an assegai? (Sticks in my eye,
assegai’s Got all that info stacked in a dossier I’m out the dungeons of rap You can’t make it back when you’re out of that trap (No) I loaded up clips in my
assegai If we don't make it That's on everything I got Moyo neropa pfungwa zvese zvisinagade nday If we don't make it That's on everything I got If we don't
cloud's hanging over me. When I hit on the remote, The programs stay the same. Credo, credo, credo, credo. An assegai slick with sweat and blood.
assegai How mad am I, I'm aghast at the impact of the asinine Fact that these rappers basic, they only drinking alkaline The future belongs to those who
the wagons with hides To protect the old and young from the rain Of a thousand assegais Two of our number perished And fourteen were wounded by spears Four
and assegais through water smoke and mud Our firing cut a swathe of death Through those valiant warriors And the waters of that river Flowed scarlet with their
An assegai slick with sweat and blood, A shotgun barks at a rabid dog, A shallow grave hugs a highway, Beneath a bleaching sun. chorus: Credo, credo,
the story goes on our end no one knows (Huh) We’re fighting for our heritage We fighting for our lives Its assegais versus rifles Liquor versus common sense
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