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Musical: Fame
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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! Back to main page: Fame Lyrics
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