Dem call me shadow, say my skin too dark for light,  

But my soul be flame, burning bright in di night.  

From Lagos streets to di world’s cold gate,  

Dey shut me out, say my origin no rate.

Black like di soil where di yam take root,  

Yet dem scorn my face, say it no fit suit.  

I carry Africa in my bones, in my stride,  

But di world scream, “Hide! Your blackness no pride!”

Oh, oyinbo land, why you fear my hue?  

My skin be di canvas where di stars pass through.  

Dem laugh my name, say “TJStar too strange,”  

But my voice be thunder, no cage fit arrange.

I don trek through pain, di rejection wey sting,  

Like di whip of di wind when harmattan dey sing.  

“You no belong,” dem shout, with eyes wey condemn,  

But I rise like di Nile, no man fit bend.

My mama tell me, “Child, your skin be gold,  

Forged in di fire of stories untold.”  

Yet di world dey blind, dey call me less,  

Say my African heart no fit pass di test.

Oluwa see me, Him know my cry,  

Him paint my skin with di midnight sky.  

I no go bow to di hate wey dey roam,  

My roots be di anchor, di earth be my home.

From di Sahara’s breath to di Congo’s beat,  

My blackness be power, no defeat, no retreat.  

Dem reject my skin, but I no go break,  

I be di storm, di world go shake.

So let dem scorn, let dem turn me away,  

My ebony glow go light di new day.  

TJStar dey speak, my voice no go tire,  

Africa’s child, with a heart full of fire