| Mama’d tell me of her hopes
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| And what she hoped to leave behind
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| And what she thought that she would find
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| Out in California
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| She’d talk about Mississippi
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| I still don’t know how it
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| If any place could be worse than this
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| It’s hard to believe
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| She’s say, «Baby, if I could
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| «Y'know I’d buy us a home
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| «Over Alameda
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| «Where the green grass grows»
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| Now when she left the Delta
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| It was 1966
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| Come to Los Angeles
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| She was nine years old
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| And there was work to be had
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| Grandaddy worked at Firestone
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| Made enough to buy a home
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| Out on Wilmington Avenue
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| Then the jobs moved out
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| Grandaddy died and we lost the house
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| Moved into the Jordan Downs
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| And been here ever since
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| Mama’d say there’s something better
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| I’d say I know that there is
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| Over Alameda
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| Where the white folks live
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| So 97th and Laurel
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| It’s all I’ve ever known
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| I’m nineteen years old
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| Just yesterday
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| And what I have seen
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| All I’ve discovered
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| Is there’s nothing for a boy of color
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| But to fight
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| And I’ll keep on fighting
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| 'Cause they ain’t licked me yet
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| Going over Alameda
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| Like Mama said |