Stogie T on Sway

Stogie T on Sway

Fede fede kaofela.

2017 ended on a high with "Black Thought" making sure the culture is safe  with a verse that had the globe honoring and recognizing lyricism as an integral part of emceeing.

Closing off 2018, the "Valley of the Hyenas" was invaded by one "Stogie T" recently and this what what down

After the showdown, The Roots’ Black Thought sent Stogie T a message simply saying “You a beat bro”.

Sway called Stogie T "South Africa’s finest,” as he was about to go in, and he did not dissapoint as he not only represented South Africa, but the African continent as a whole.

Stogie T's Verse.
"There ain’t a French bottle we ain’t pop

a fresh article we ain’t cop 

Benz-top that we ain’t drop’d

A dress model we ain’t knock’d

festival we ain’t rock’d destined to be this  hot - to the best of my knowledge rest of them average thats saying a lot

but if if you’re taking stock

and you don’t save a spot for the forsaken lot

from the baking hot….land of the slaver’s dock

that’s your prerogative we polar opposites

I’m from that continent of poverty and long walk accomplishments

where former heroes give birth to spoilt rotten kids

the opulent meet the poor cleaning their offices

we push rocketships, like Elon Musk -

charged the whip but still stuck in shit coz we don’t got, a pot to piss in,

Say God forgives as you give the church half your shit. I’m buggin’. Still, we can’t tell pastor from a pimp.

Its Roman Catholic, its Anglican, its African - tribesmen, migrants…shit, its masked men kidnapping kids 

I say South Africa: You think Trevor.

I think Nelson, its half apparent you getting mixed messages ay

I say Nigeria: You think Fela!

I think Delta!

Its past and present, blurry as an impressionist Sway!

I put your certified hyenas in elephant graves,

I’m punching way above the ceiling, you set as the grade,

this is the Red Letter Day show ‘em how a vet is made

last time somebody skipped this file? David Blane!

These ready-made superstars

with tattoos and scars, and they think they can save face with a few bars,

They lukewarm, I’m in true-form

38 like Jordan in Utah killin’ dem with the flu shot,

struss-God that mean trust me I’m nutty as Ru Paul but I wear out a pussy like King Joffe in New York what could you do bro?

Well I promise you all the smoke, I’m Calvin Broadus to Snoop Dogg

Dis is the diary of a madman, who should’ve stamped champ,

but I rode above their heads like Anne Frank -

Fam! I’m a giant amongst ants like the tyrants from Bahgdad

Hussein I can’t hang on camera?

grew up on hammers M16 hammers no dancers miss me with MC Hammer.

I’m a Kool G Rap alumni these my handlers, the kufi-Nas from NY Jesus medallion

reading Langston Hughes, Al-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz and ‘em shit,

in the pocket like the audubon assassin

they gon’ photograph a African prototype of a starving kid

but not show you the royal blue Aston Martin whip. Its complicated!

and fuck vibranium, educate ‘em

we got ghettos too and they orange juice concentrated

But Bo Brady said be measured in your actions 

give them Honey & Pain, happiness and the anguish

like when Tony got the flooded Roley and we called it hope

for all the times the po-po had my folks against the ropes

for all the times we drove a shawty out to Mary Stopes

and all the ones we almost broke,

but still be calling hoes

they fall for men who end up teaching them the ropey dopey

these the broken homes we’re from

it ain’t sweet like its marijuana leaf-highs

like Maradona sniff white, strangled by a short leash

my Mama hold her fist tight

tell a bigot he can suck and lick a peace-pipe

coz we gon’ get the that level up and win this life, ay!

I’m from the real South - not that fried catfish Killer Mike

I mean that townships REAL SOUTH,

where blacks go through hardships like a roundtrip flight

its bat-shit backwards for the wrong skin type and I am disliked but I don’t give too many fucks

when they set the bar I look back and tell ‘em where it was

this shit ain’t for everyone, second cousin and Aunt

taking a dump on our culture for a radio chart , ay!

but I ain’t mad atchu,

might even dance to it

and half the world can watch me flannel, snap to it!

Rest in Peace ProKid

R.I.P HHP.

R.I.P Zwelethu Badela 

R.I.P Ben Sharpa

Stogie fucken T"