| The commandments of I, Saffiyah Khan
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| Thou shall not listen to Prince Buster
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| Or any other man offering kindly advice
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| In matters of my own conduct
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| You may call me a feminazi or a femoid
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| And then see if I give a stinking shit
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| Pseudo-intellectuals on the internet
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| They tell me I’m unhappy because I’m not feminine
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| Failing to consider that I may be unhappy
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| Because it’s 3 AM and I’m in the depths of YouTube
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| Watching them whining
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| Thou may catcall me on the street
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| But thou should take note that I’ll catcall you right back
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| To tell you that you look pretty sexy too in your joggers
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| Or your suit, or your new-found look of confusion
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| Girls should not turn on each other
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| Or use man-made ideals like paths
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| Don’t you realize that you’re only making a fool of yourself
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| When you ask, «Why don’t you wear makeup?»
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| Is that what it takes to impress a bloke
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| Whose brain is made up of promises of curvy size zeros
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| And anti-gravity tits?
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| Thou shall not tell a girl she deserved it
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| Because her skirt was too short
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| She walked home, streets lights illuminating her as a target
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| But she started it, because she looked at him
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| And he finished it 'cause he wanted to
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| And they’ll bring out her skirt as Exhibit A before the judge
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| And she should have the right to say
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| «Thou shall not tell me what to wear
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| Nor how to wear it»
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| I shall not be the icing on your cake
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| And I shall not be the candy on your arm
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| But I shall be seen
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| And I will be heard
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| The commandments of I, Saffiyah Khan
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| Pseudo-intellectuals |