Testi Soundtracks :: F

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!