|
Damn it, son |
|
I think its time we had a little man-to-man talking |
|
I heard that you was hand-in-hand |
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Walking down the boulevard, middle of the day |
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With this Black chick |
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Tell me the truth, boy, or you can catch this slap quick |
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[The Brewin] |
|
Let me get this straight |
|
You're ranting and raving |
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Behaving like a mad dog with rabies |
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Because my baby's not white; that ain't right |
|
Pops, you got me puzzled |
|
Because in the past with Black folks you never struggled |
|
At least to my knowledge |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Your knowledge seems to need a little working |
|
That little nigger bitch got you looking like The Jerk |
|
And I can't another minute of you and that Black heifer, son |
|
Looking sorta like Tom Willis from the Jefferson Show |
|
[The Brewin] |
|
What you know about my girl to try and slander |
|
Let me talk a bit and maybe you can understand |
|
The situation that I got isn't ?messing with somebody? |
|
Cause this woman's taking care of both my mind and my body |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Yeah, yeah, yeah, OK |
|
I understand that she's attractive |
|
Cause their bodies are just built to be sexually active |
|
Baby-making taking tax money for their welfare |
|
Or maybe up on 42nd with the bodies that they sell there |
|
So what's her name? |
|
Is it Shanainai or Shaquana? |
|
Son, she's got to be a goner |
|
[The Brewin] |
|
Well I'm glad to see my father's in my corner |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Oh, you think this shit is funny? |
|
I ain't joking |
|
That's the last straw, the camel's back has been broken |
|
[Chorus] |
|
[Verse Two:] |
|
[The Brewin] |
|
Well I'll be damned |
|
Cause it seems that I'm the last to know |
|
My father's a bigot |
|
My girl's Black, he can't dig it |
|
So she has to go |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Now you're judging me, kid |
|
But do you know me |
|
[The Brewin] |
|
But it seems to me that even David Duke could be your homey |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Now you know I ain't no racist |
|
But they place us in a terrible predicament |
|
They're taking over the block |
|
And, damn it son, I'm sick of it |
|
[The Brewin] |
|
But when you see the neighbors you say "Hi, how you doing" |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Still I think of how the value of my property's been ruined |
|
[The Brewin] |
|
You sound like such an idiot |
|
I pity it |
|
I wonder, should I laugh or should I cry? |
|
More than anything I want a reason why |
|
All of a sudden, the blood in your vien flows with such vigor |
|
Just because you choose to call another person "nigger" |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Well they're just some thugs |
|
Stealing, slum-dwelling, drug-dealing, gun-selling |
|
And a hundred yard dashing after doing purse-snatching |
|
Damn savages who ravages the buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken |
|
With the first dibs on the ribs |
|
Looking like a damn monkey on the football fields and basketball courts |
|
Taking over sports |
|
Leaving us just to golf and to tennis |
|
And they menacing society, the bums |
|
They should go the fuck to where they came from |
|
[The Brewin] |
|
So that's your vision of perfection |
|
That's your clear blue skies |
|
Through those clear blue eyes |
|
Which seem to make you think you're better |
|
But instead of simply sinking to the level of your thinking |
|
I'll be ghost |
|
[Buddy Slim] |
|
Pack your bags, nigger-lover, and good riddance |
|
[Chorus] |
