Twelve full moons like white gold, grandfather sky is getting old
Tides come and go and the rivers froze and the weather man said its getting cold
Winters coming, I'm coming home
My ancestors come from the snow
I'm first born and Creator knows don't let me get in my zone
S on my chest, anti-hero I guess
Beads on my neck and my earlobes are stretched
Abnormal, irregular, so unconventional, are we original? Yes
Phone home, I got a bone to pick
I got trust issues I can never fix
I'm true to myself and my promises and when I'm in Rome I do the opposite
Got my voice back with my artifact
Now I'm talking shit with my talking stick
From Pot-latch bans on our own land, where legal pot was provocative
We drumming our drums as usual, we singing our songs as suitable
We dance to it all, so movable
We do it together, its beautiful
I'm breathing heavy, I love it
My palms are sweaty, I love it
My culture's alive, I love it
The art is revived, I love it

Uh, Nate to the bone
Lit like my sage homie I ain't alone
The spirits stay with me to get where I'm goin'
Had my first sweat homie, I was reborn
Pride gets bigger as my hair get long
Two long braids, that's a dedication
Son of a gun, no registration, just like my pops
We about feast, pot latch
Copper shield on fleek, top notch
Stayed true from the jump, Kriss Kross
Dear Turtle Island, this the renaissance
Don't take my kindness for weakness, man that shit too funny my neechie
So tell me, have you ever been at the bottom?
Its muddy my neechie
I'm pissed off for greatness my neechie
Been silent and deadly since my nose was snotty
Besides all my fam, I don't fuck with nobody
Illuminative, no illuminati
Illuminative, no illuminati
Misunderstood, ya'll don't understand
I'm a red man with a method man
Resist, revive, indigenize
We heavy hitters
We don't die, we multiply
Cry me a river