Don't need no rich bitch, to tell me which Fork to use, I paid my dues In a rat-trap building called New York Livin' off beans, greens, and pork In a basement, tenement, No one's got to tell me what it meant To be black, Jack Ace of spades All the car-wash washers and day-work maids Can't wash it off, never fades, It's who you are until you're dead Now ain't that a kick upside the head? Yeah, I know about Pryor and Portier, Can't get higher than Sugar Ray Muhammed Ali and Doctor J And 90% of the N.B.A. Reggie Jackson, Jesse Jackson, Michael and Mahaliah Jackson, Now what's that got to do with me? On the street the only thing I see is: Crack dealers, pocketbook stealers, Coke snorters, Time Square daughters, Eight-year olds who dance for quarters, And tokes, and two-line blows, New Adidas and stereos! That's us! That's it! So don't be tellin' me all that shit!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
