Beyonce – BLACK PARADE [OST “The Lion King: The Gift”]. Lyrics & Meaning

Beyonce – BLACK PARADE: A Joyful March of Heritage and Power

Ever have one of those moments where a song comes on and it’s so much more than just a beat and some words? It feels like an entire history lesson, a celebration, and a call to action all rolled into three minutes. You’re left thinking, “Whoa, what just happened?” That’s the exact feeling of listening to Beyoncé’s masterpiece, a track that isn’t just music; it’s a rich, vibrant tapestry of culture and pride. So, let’s pull back the curtain and really get into the heart of this incredible anthem, because there’s so much more here than meets the ear.

More Than a Song: Unpacking Beyoncé’s “BLACK PARADE”

Right from the jump, Beyoncé isn’t just singing; she’s taking us on a journey. The song, dropped on Juneteenth, is a deliberate and powerful statement. When she opens with these lines, it’s a profound act of reclamation:

I’m going back to the South

I’m going back, back, back, back
Where my roots ain’t watered down

She’s setting the scene immediately. This isn’t just a trip home; it’s a return to the source, a place of deep historical significance for Black Americans. She paints a picture of strength and resilience, comparing her heritage to a “Baobab tree,” a symbol of life and nourishment in Africa. The references just keep coming, each one a brushstroke in this gorgeous portrait of Black identity. She mentions an “Ankh charm,” an ancient Egyptian symbol for life, and channels her “Oshun energy,” referencing the Yoruba goddess of love, beauty, and fertility. It’s a beautiful, layered declaration of her connection to the motherland.

A Celebration You Can See and Feel

Beyoncé doesn’t just tell us about her pride; she shows us. She describes herself dripping in “Ankara Dashiki print,” vibrant African fabrics that are instantly recognizable. The sensory details are amazing, right? You can almost smell the “nag champa incense” she mentions. This isn’t just about looking good; it’s about wearing your history. The lyrics feel like a vibrant, moving procession—a parade—of Black culture in all its forms.

Ooh, going up, going up, motherland, motherland drip on me
Ooh, melanin, melanin, my drip is skin deep, like

This is where she makes it clear: this “drip,” this style and confidence, isn’t just something you buy. It’s innate. It comes from her melanin, her very skin. It’s a powerful and beautiful way of saying that Blackness itself is the ultimate luxury.

Lyrics: "BLACK PARADE" by Beyonce

I’m going back to the South
I’m going back, back, back, back
Where my roots ain’t watered down
Growing, growing like a Baobab tree
Of life on fertile ground, my ancestors put me on game
Ankh charm on gold chains, with my Oshun energy, oh
Drip all on me, woo, Ankara Dashiki print
Hold up, don’t I smell like such a nag champa incense?
Yeah, pure ice (ice), ice (ice), buss down
Uh, flooded (flooded), flooded (flooded), on my wrist, out
Ooh, going up, going up, motherland, motherland drip on me
Ooh, melanin, melanin, my drip is skin deep, like
Ooh, motherland, motherland, motherland, motherland drip on me
Ooh, yeah, I can’t forget my history is her story, yeah
Being black, maybe that’s the reason why
They’re always mad, yeah, they’re always mad, yeah
Been past ’em, I know that’s the reason why
They’re all big mad and they always have been

Honey, come around my way, around my hive
Whenever mama say so, mama say
Here I come on my throne, sitting high
Follow my parade, oh, my parade
Talking slick to my folk (My folk), nip that lip like lipo (Lipo)
You hear them swarming, right? Bees is known to bite
Now here we come on our thrones, sitting high
Follow my parade, oh, my parade

Yeah, yeah, I’m for us, all black
All chrome (Yeah), black-owned (Yeah)
Black tints (Yeah), matte black (Yeah, yeah)
Roll by, my window down, let ’em see who in it
Crack a big smile (Ding)
Go figure, me and Jigga, fifty ‘leven children
They’re like, “Chick, how?”
I charge my crystals in a full moon
You could send them missiles, I’ma send my goons
Baby sister repping Yemaya (Yemaya)
Trust me, they’re gon’ need an army (Ah)
Rubber bullets bouncing off me (Ah)
Made a picket sign off your picket fence (Ah)
Take it as a warning (Ah, ah)
Waist beads from Yoruba (Woo)
Four hundred billi’, Mansa Musa (Woo)
Stroll line to the barbecue
Put us any-damn-where, we gon’ make it look cute
Pandemic fly on the runway, in my hazmat
Children’ running through the house to my art, all black
Ancestors on the wall, let the ghosts chit-chat
(Ancestors on the wall, let the ghosts chit-chat)
Hold my hands, we gon’ pray together
Lay down, face down in the gravel
Woo, wearing all attire white to the funeral
Black love, we gon’ stay together
Curtis Mayfield on the speaker (Woo)
Lil’ Malcolm, Martin mixed with mama Tina (Woo)
Need another march, lemme call Tamika (Woo)
Need peace and reparation for my people (Woo)
Fuck these laid edges, I’ma let it shrivel up (Shrivel up)
Fuck this fade and waves, I’ma let it dread all up (Dread all up)
Put your fist up in the air, show black love (Show black love)
Motherland drip on me, motherland, motherland drip on me

Honey, come around my way, around my hive
Whenever mama say so, mama say
Here I come on my throne, sitting high
Follow my parade, oh, my parade
Talking slick to my folk (My folk), nip that lip like lipo (Lipo)
Hear ’em swarming, right? (Zz) Bees is known to bite (Zz, zz)
Now here we come on our thrones, sitting high
Follow my parade, oh, my parade

We got rhythm (We got rhythm), we got pride (We got pride)
We birth kings (We birth kings), we birth tribes (We birth tribes)
Holy river (Holy river), holy tongue (Holy tongue)
Speak the glory (Speak the glory), feel the love (Feel the love)
Motherland, motherland drip on me, hey, hey, hey
Motherland, motherland drip on me, hey, hey, hey
I can’t forget my history, it’s her story
Motherland drip on me, motherland, motherland drip on me

Honey, come around my way, around my hive (My)
Whenever mama say so (Hey), mama say (Hey, hey)
Here I come on my throne, sitting high (High)
Follow my parade, oh, my parade (Hey, hey, hey)
Talking slick to my folk (My folk), nip that lip like lipo (Lipo)
Hear ’em swarming, right? (Zz) Bees is known to bite (Zz, zz)
Now here we come on our thrones, sitting high
Follow my parade, oh, black parade

From Ancestral Pride to Modern Power

The song brilliantly pivots from celebrating ancient roots to flexing modern-day Black excellence and resistance. It’s a seamless transition that shows how the past directly fuels the present. She shouts out Black ownership and economic power with lines about being “all black,” “black-owned,” and having “black tints.” And that Mansa Musa reference? Genius. She casually drops the name of the 14th-century African emperor, often considered the richest person in history, connecting Blackness to immense wealth and influence.

Waist beads from Yoruba (Woo)
Four hundred billi’, Mansa Musa (Woo)

But this parade isn’t just about celebration; it’s also about the fight. Beyoncé steps into the role of a protestor, a freedom fighter. The imagery is so sharp and defiant, it gives you chills. She’s not just standing on the sidelines; she’s on the front lines, turning symbols of oppression into tools of liberation.

Rubber bullets bouncing off me (Ah)
Made a picket sign off your picket fence (Ah)
Take it as a warning (Ah, ah)

This isn’t just a lyric; it’s a whole movie scene. You can literally picture her tearing down a white picket fence—a symbol of suburban conformity—and fashioning it into a protest sign. It’s a powerful metaphor for dismantling systems and using their own materials to fight back.

The Beyhive’s Call to Action

And then there’s the chorus, which is the heart of the parade itself. It’s an invitation, a royal decree, and a warning all at once. Beyoncé isn’t just leading this parade; she’s inviting her community to join her on their own thrones.

Honey, come around my way, around my hive
Whenever mama say so, mama say
Here I come on my throne, sitting high
Follow my parade, oh, my parade

The reference to her “hive” is a nod to her dedicated fanbase, the Beyhive, but it’s also a broader call for Black people to swarm together in solidarity. And she reminds everyone that this swarm has power: “Bees is known to bite.” It’s a soft-spoken but firm warning to anyone who dares to disrespect her folk. It’s a perfect blend of queenly grace and fierce protection.

At its core, “BLACK PARADE” is a song about unapologetic joy as a form of resistance. It’s a reminder that celebrating your culture, loving your skin, honoring your ancestors, and building your own wealth are revolutionary acts. The track is a beautiful testament to the idea that true power comes from knowing exactly who you are and where you come from.

This song feels like a gift—a meticulously crafted anthem that educates, empowers, and inspires all at once. But that’s just my take on it. What do you hear when you listen to “BLACK PARADE”? Are there any lines that stand out to you or have a special meaning? Let’s chat about it, because a song this rich is meant to be discussed.

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