**(Intro)**
Yeah, man...
Listen to the story of the Almamy.
From the hills of Manyambaladugu to the banks of the Milo River.
A warrior for the people, a pillar of the faith.
Rise up, children, and sing of the resistance!
Jah!
**(Verse 1)**
Born a son of the soil, a merchant of the land,
Walking through the valleys with the future in his hand.
When the Cissé came down and took his mother away,
He traded his own freedom, in the camp he had to stay.
Seven years, seven months, seven days of the trial,
Learning the ways of the rifle, growing all the while.
He rose from the ranks with a fire in his chest,
To unite the Manding nation and to put the land to rest.
**(Chorus)**
Samori Ture, the lion of the West,
Against the iron hand, you put your armor to the test.
Almamy Samori, standard bearer of the light,
You stood against the empire in the middle of the night.
Roots, rock, reggae for the African king,
Let the drums of the Wassoulou forever ring!
**(Verse 2)**
From the gates of Bissandougou, the empire did grow,
A theocratic alliance where the sacred waters flow.
He brought the tribes together under Islam’s holy word,
But the shadow of the Europeans was the heaviest thing he heard.
The French columns marching with artillery and gold,
Trying to buy the country that could never be sold.
So he fought them with the strategy, he fought them with the land,
Scorched earth in the valleys, making a final stand.
**(Chorus)**
Samori Ture, the lion of the West,
Against the iron hand, you put your armor to the test.
Almamy Samori, standard bearer of the light,
You stood against the empire in the middle of the night.
Roots, rock, reggae for the African king,
Let the drums of the Wassoulou forever ring!
**(Bridge)**
They couldn't break his spirit on the battlefield ground,
So they took him to the island where the waters surround.
Exiled in Gabon, by the Ogooué stream,
They thought they killed the man, but they couldn't kill the dream.
From the blood of the martyr, a new dawn did break,
A hundred years later, the children awake!
**(Verse 3)**
Now the great-grandson rises to take up the lead,
Ahmed Sékou Touré planting freedom's own seed.
Though the history books chatter, some call you a dread,
To the roots of the resistance, you're the crown on the head.
Resting in Conakry, by the grand mosque so high,
Your name is a banner lifted up to the sky.
**(Outro)**
Yeah, Samori... Lafiya Toure.
The fire still burns in the heart of Guinea.
From Mali to Sierra Leone, the roots run deep.
Sleep on, old lion, the children are awake.
No chains can hold the spirit of the righteous man.
Rastafari.
(Fade out with heavy bass and echoing drums)