Eiii, chale...
Listen closely, make we go back.
To the roots of the Ashanti, the soil of Ghana.
Kasa!
Who controls the seed, controls the food we eat,
Who controls your tongue, controls the terms on the street.
Chale, they write the contracts, they rule the trade,
But we forget the wisdom that our fathers made.
If they control your money, they control your breath,
But we are sons of the soil, we conquer death.
Odomankoma gave us the key,
Let's reclaim our language and be truly free.
Let’s get to our roots, oh my people rise!
Look inside your soul, open up your eyes.
Ashanti power, African glory,
We must write our own golden story.
ɛyɛ, yes it is good!
Protecting the land, the way we should!
Our way of life is love, not the things we acquire,
Humanity is the gold, that is our desire.
Our forebears did it, fought for the throne,
Now we must build for the seeds yet unsown.
For the children unborn, we pave the way,
No more mental chains, this is a new day.
Respect the trees, the rivers, and the earth,
Remember the culture that gave us birth.
Let’s get to our roots, oh my people rise!
Look inside your soul, open up your eyes.
Ashanti power, African glory,
We must write our own golden story.
ɛyɛ, yes it is good!
Protecting the land, the way we should!
Chale, remember who you are.
From Kumasi to the world.
We are African.
ɛyɛ... yieee...
Kasa.