| Yeah… so we got this tune called «Four Women» right | 
| Originally it was by Nina Simone, and uh | 
| She said it was inspired by, uh, you know, down South | 
| Down South they used to call her Mother Auntie | 
| You know, she said no «Mrs.», you know, just Auntie, y’know what I’m sayin' | 
| And uh, she said if anybody ever called her Auntie she’d burn | 
| The whole God damned place down, y’know what I’m sayin' | 
| But you know, we’re moving past that, y’know what I’m sayin' | 
| Coming into a new millenium, can’t forget our elders | 
| I got off the Two train in Brooklyn, on my way to a session | 
| Said «Let me help this woman up the stairs» before I get to steppin' | 
| We got in a conversation, she said she a hundred and seven | 
| Just her presence was a blessing, and her essence was a lesson | 
| She had her head wrapped and long dreads that peeked out the back | 
| Like antenna to help her to get a sense of where she was at | 
| Imagine that, living a century, the strength of her memories | 
| Felt like an angel Heaven sent to me | 
| She lived from nigga to colored to negro to black to afro | 
| Then African-American then right back to nigga | 
| You’d figure she’d be bitter in a twilight, be she aight | 
| Cause she done seen the circle of life | 
| Yo, my skin is black like it’s packed with melanin | 
| Back in the days of slaves she’d be packin' like Harriet Tubman | 
| And, my arms are long like she moves like a song | 
| Feet with corns, hands with calluses but the heart is warm | 
| And, my hair is wooly and attract a lot of energy | 
| Even negative she gotta dead that the head wrap is a remedy (and) | 
| My back is strong she far from a vagabond | 
| This is the back the master’s whip used to crack upon | 
| Strong enough to take all the pain that’s been inflicted | 
| Again and again and again and again and then flip it | 
| To the love for her children, nothing else matters | 
| What do they call her, they call her Aunt Sarah | 
| I know a girl with a name as beautiful as the rain | 
| Her face is the same but she suffers in unusual pain | 
| Seems she only deal with losers who be using them games | 
| Chasing the real brothers away like she confused in the brain | 
| She try to get in where she fit in on that American Dream mission | 
| Paid tuition for that receipt to find out her history was missing | 
| And started flippin', seeing the world through very different eyes | 
| People asking her what she’ll do when it come time to choose sides | 
| Yo, my skin is yellow it’s like the face is blonde | 
| Word is bond, and my hair long and straight, it’s like Sleeping Beauty | 
| See she truly feel like she belong in two worlds | 
| And now she can’t relate to other girls | 
| Her father is rich and white, still living with his wife | 
| But he forced himself on her mother late one night | 
| They call it rape, that’s right | 
| And now she take flight from life with hate and spite inside her mind | 
| To keep her up to the break of light a lot of times | 
| I gotta find myself, I gotta find myself | 
| I gotta find myself, she had to remind herself | 
| They call her Siffronia, the unwanted seed | 
| Blood still blue in her veins, and still red when she bleeds | 
| Don’t, don’t, don’t hurt me again (x8) | 
| Teenage lovers sit on the stoops of a Harlem | 
| Holdin' hands under the Apollo marquee dreamin' of stardom | 
| Cause they were born the streets is watching and schemin' | 
| And now they got them generations facing diseases | 
| That don’t kill you they just got problems and complications | 
| To get you first, yo it’s getting worse | 
| When children hide the fact that they pregnant | 
| Cause they scared of givin' birth | 
| How will I feed this baby, how will I survive, how will this baby shine | 
| Daddy dead from crack in '85, mommy dead from AIDS in '89 | 
| At 14 the baby hit the same streets they became a master | 
| The children of the enslaved, they grow a little faster | 
| They bodies become adult while they keep the thoughts of a child | 
| Her arrival into womanhood was hemmed up for her survival | 
| Now she 25, barely grown, now on her own | 
| Doing whatever it takes, strippin', working out on the block | 
| Up on the phone talkin' about | 
| «My skin is tan like the front of your hand | 
| And my hair, well my hair is alright, whatever I wear when I fix it | 
| It’s alright, it’s fine, but my hips these sway hips of mine | 
| Invite you daddy when I fix my lips my mouth is like wine | 
| Take a sip, don’t be shy, tonight I wanna be your lady | 
| I ain’t too good for your Mercedes, but first you gotta pay me | 
| Quit with all them questions, sugar, whose little girl am I | 
| Why, I’m yours if you got enough money to buy | 
| You better stop with them compliments, we running out of time | 
| You wanna talk, whatever, we can do that it’s your dime | 
| From Harlem is where I came, don’t worry about my name | 
| Up on 125 they call me Sweet Thing» | 
| Say what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what | 
| What, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what | 
| Say what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what | 
| What, what, what, what… oooo~ | 
| A daughter come up in Georgia ripe and ready to plant seed | 
| Left her plantation when she saw a sign even though she can’t read | 
| It came from God (praise him!), when life get hard she always speak to Him | 
| She’d rather kill her babies than let the master get to him | 
| She on the run up North to get across to Mason-Dixon | 
| In church she learned how to be patient and keep wishin' | 
| The promise of eternal life after death for those who God bless | 
| She swear the next baby she have will breathe a free breath | 
| And get milk from a free breast and love being alive | 
| Otherwise they’ll have to give up being themself to survive | 
| Being maids, cleanin' ladies, maybe teachers, and college graduates | 
| Nurses and housewives, prostitutes and drug addicts | 
| Some will grow to be old women, some will die before they’re born | 
| There’ll be mothers and lovers who inspire and make songs | 
| But me, my skin is brown and my manner is tough | 
| Like the love I give my babies when the rainbow’s enough | 
| I’ll kill the first muhfucker to mess with me, I never bluff | 
| I ain’t got time to lie, my life’s been much too rough | 
| Still runnin' with bare feet, I ain’t got nothin' but my sole | 
| Freedom is the ultimate goal | 
| Life and death is small in a hole in many ways | 
| I’m awfully bitter these days | 
| Cause the only parents God gave me; | 
| they were slaves | 
| And they crippled me, I got the destiny of a casualty | 
| But I’ll live through my babies and I’ll change my reality | 
| Maybe one day I’ll ride back to Georgia on a train | 
| Folks 'round there call me Peaches; | 
| guess that’s my name |