Tyrone's Rap

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, 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 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 Mahalia Jackson

And what's that got to do with me?

On the street the only thing I see is:

Dope dealers, pocketbook stealers

Coke snorters, Time Square daughters

Eight-year olds that 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!