Don´t need no rich bitch
tell me which
fork to use
I paid my dues
in a rat trap building called new york
living off greens, beans and pork
in a basement, tenement
no one 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, it 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 poitier
can´t get higher than sugar ray,
muhammed ali and doctor j
and nighty percent of the nba
reggie jackson, jesse jackson,
michael and mahalia jackson
and what´s that got to do with me?
on the street the onliest thing i see is
crack dealers,
pocketbook stealers,
coke snorters,
time square daughters,
eight-year olds who dance for quarters,
for tokes and two-line blows,
new adidas and stereos
that´s us! that´s it!
so don´t be tellin´ me all that shit!

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