Indigenous Awakens

I snatch the mic from conquistadors' descendants
Resurrect ancestors in every sentence
You built your cathedrals on our bones and our essence
But I'm the vengeance encoded in every lesson

I'm obsidian—tongued, Nahuatl in the rhythm
My syllables slice like quetzal plumes in prism
I'm the algorithm of forgotten prisms
The DNA of kingdoms pre—Christian

You call me illegal Alien, I call that fiction
A label invented after linguistic crucifixion
They baptized our vision, erased tradition
But I'm the codex risen — glyphs in transmission

Zapotec mathematics, Mixtec manuscripts
Triqui linguistics encrypted in hieroglyph scripts
I spit solar flares — Olmec in the syntax
Before your prophets ever dreamed of sin acts

(Verse 2 – The Rebirth Cipher)

I'm the son of maize, not the son of Spain
Blood of volcanoes pulsing through my veins
Colonial trauma encoded in my frame
But I broke those chains — Jaguar untamed

They said "Mestizo" like it's a downgrade
But I'm the upgrade — two thousand years unafraid
Before Adam, before Rome, before crusades
We had calendars calculating cosmic waves

You burned our codices, called us pagans
But our science was quantum equations
We mapped Orion with obsidian tools
You mapped crusades with blood and fools

I'm Nahua tongue, Inca stone, Wixarika prayer
Maya timekeeper of celestial layers
Chicano's not slang, it's reclamation
A decolonized nation within a nation

(Verse 3 – Pan—Indigenismo (The Blood Continuum))

From Alaska to Andes — I see reflections
Cherokee, Maya, Mapuche connections
I'm the fusion of feathers and fire direction
The smoke of incense, rebellion's complexion

They call me Latino? Nah — that's oppression
They call me Hispanic? That's possession
You can't colonize what's eternal
I'm internal infernal ancestral journal

The Taíno's conch still echoes through wind
The K'iche' still chant what's never been dimmed
The Aymara still guard the sacred rim
We are not myths — we are oxygen

I'm the voice of the pueblos you forgot to name
The prophecy fulfilled in a hip—hop flame
This is not rap — it's blood memory on tape
An Aztec priest with a mic instead of a blade

(Verse 4 – The Revelation / El Despertar)

I am not Hebrew, not Roman, not slave
Not from Atlantis, not from caves
I'm from the land where the sun behaves
Where serpents dance and the cosmos waves

They dressed our truth in European masks
But we speak in pyramids — geometry that lasts
Your scholars study what we whispered in dreams
We built philosophy from rivers and beans

Call me rebel, call me savage, call me heathen
But I resurrect civilizations still breathing
I'm the Tlatoani of broken youth
Preaching that decolonization is truth

This is Aztlán reborn, no Bible, no sword
Just words sharper than obsidian core
Every rhyme a ritual, every verse a prayer
To awaken the millions who forgot we're still there

(Outro – Prophecy of the New Dawn)

Yo soy la voz del maíz
El eco de los abuelos aún por venir
No soy ilegal — soy mil naciones en mí
Soy Mixe, Zapoteco, Rarámuri

I'm every tribe they tried to divide
Every tongue they tried to hide
The blood remembers, even when we forget
We are the sun that refuses to set

No borders, no names, no shame
We are the fire before the flame
The original people — the first, the last
The future dressed in the echoes of the past