I'm not a bitch, nor a hoe, nor a tramp, nor a slut. I'm not defined by the size, or the shape of my butt. I'm not concerned with the cars, the cash, or the jewelry. I'm more concerned that you obtained those things at the expense of my security.
Did I miss something when I looked in the mirror? 'Cause what I swore I saw was a vision of your mother. What happened that we reached this point?
How I long for the days when 'De La Soul' used to bump?
Some of the younger girls may not remember, but yes, there was a time when rap first began; where we were referred to, talked to, and treated like queens.
We can kid ourselves and say todays lyrics has no influence, but I beg to differ, when next to my vehicle is a car full of white kids bumping to our music.
There isn't a song I feel comfortable letting my impressionable son hear. But how do I rob him of a culture that keeps us so near?
What the world must think of us, this one thing we wonder for sure?
Poor, poor black woman, with no one to love. Your family, he has forsaken. Not yet completely, But probably someday for good.
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