Plumbline aka Plumbtifex aka Rantymus is one of my favourite Spoken Word poets in Nigeria hands down, his critically acclaimed historical piece Dead Presidents ( 2010 ) alerted a large number of people who appreciate the genre to his prowess as not only a poet but a historical and social commentator of a sound pedigree. Since then he released Beautiful off his 7 Days Werk EP with producer Kraftmatiks which was supposed to come out in 2013 but has been delayed ever since. Today he is back with a fresh piece titled I Am Not A Criminal, which was produced by Kraftmatiks and addresses amongst a multitude of issues affecting us,including Nigerian police brutality, the treatment of Nigerians internationally as well as our the perception we are met with from an acute angle, listen this is a first-of-its-kind presentation and if you love spoken word and poetry in motion, you will enjoy this.

He is currently working on a project with Kraftmatiks titled And On the 8th Day, His appearance on Tales By Moonlight By Boogey And Paybac off their collaborative album Face Off is also something you should check out.

DOWNLOAD TRACK HERE

Lyrics

Kitikiti, Olankiti ja 2x

Eni ba jale lere kan, to tun d’aran bori, aso ole lo da bo ra, da bo ra, da bo ra pese.

I’m not a Criminal, though I know what it’s like to be locked up in Area F, My Offence being seen at the

Café while I went to print my invite for interview, and so by Design and Subterfuge, I was compelled to

obsess over the peanuts that was my penance in exchange for the ID Card that seemed to scream loud

at Law enforcement that I’m not a Criminal.

I’m not a criminal; I’m that Stereotype young black male that gets shot with their hands up, way before

Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Tamir Rice. I am Kunle Adepeju, felled by Police bullets

in front of Zik Hall, University of Ibadan, 1971, I am Dawodu Brothers, Killed by Constable Ibe, 1987. I am

Odunola Ali, the female Corper that got shot in 2000, not for photo-bombing but for being within the

shooting range of the Deputy Governor’s aide. I am the myriads of unaccounted, undocumented blokes

that left their homes, for a trip to the unknown never to return because they were criminal enough to

step out with beards, dreads and/or tattoos, signed on yahoo, with a Seventh user, hand me down

Gionee body, techno battery, Mobile phone, now a mobile po-liceman is being co-opted into beating a

confession out of you in spite of your plea that I am not a criminal.

I am not a Criminal; I am that young lad with a gleam in the eye surviving the times in the dark alleys of

Peckham, my fate, a delicate balance between that of John Boyega, the Star in Star Wars, and Damilola

Taylor, the stabbed-in-the-back boy. I’m not a Criminal; I am the hardworking Nigerian living in council

flats in South-East London, avoided like plague by his Nigerian classmate who is married to a

Scandinavian and lives in Canary Wharf. I am not a criminal; I am that young Nigerian minding the Gap in

London Tube, working hard for scrap to send home and still have enough left to fund my Oyster Card. I

am not a criminal; I’m that Nigerian intern with the Telegraph that squirms over my President’s

interview knowing fully well that for Capitalist media, it’s all about the ratings, tweets and retweets and

the harshness of the hashtags. I am that Correctional Officer in Houston Texas, despised by Whites,

Blacks and Latino Prisoners, because I’m the symbol of their incarceration; none of them remembering

that I do this for my Nations: I pay my Tax to Uncle Sam, my Tithes to Pastor Sam, and I remit my debts

to Uncle Lam in Ibadan, who paid for my Flight ticket and my DV application. I am not a criminal, I’m

Chuka Umunna, I’m Adebayo Ogunlesi, Hakeem Olajuwon, Chiewetel Ejiofor, Jidenna, Olusegun Olumide

Adeola Samuel… Seal, I am Sade Adu, I’m that nerd working for Talk-Talk trying to upgrade the security

of your funds.

So next time I hand you my green passport, don’t look at me funny, because, I am not a Criminal…

Kitikiti, Olankiti ja 2x

Eni ba jale lere kan, to tun d’aran bori, aso ole lo da bo ra, da bo ra, da bo ra pese.