| 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 |