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lirik lagu poon tang clan – ursula rucker

see, it’s like dis kid…
see, sista cliques from the barrios and the
bricks
we’ve been hard hit with the media’s d-ck
and stigmas from the way it was still haunt us
see, poon-tang, that’s just a play on words
it makes light of all the stereotypes that have
created our pseudo-s-x hype
yes, we’re women and black
but not simply wet nurses or coochies with back
or no more than topless wh-r-s waiting on
continent’s shore to become new world versions
of beasts of burden
though our stuff be sweet and holds a certain
mystique, it’s true
·
view us as faceless p-ssy and weak and we’ll bust
you.
·
cause poon-tang clan ain’t nothing to f-ck with
poon-tang clan ain’t nothing to f-ck with
poon-tang clan ain’t nothing…
but hustlers…and n-gg- b-tch tricks
least that’s how they twist the sh-t
name us like slaves by lips fixed with myth
‘bout high drama ghettos, where…movin’ on up…
negros
and white folks…don’t dare go
but pimp players, five-dollar head blows and
project hoes flow…
over into these too-mean streets
only a beast could survive in
helped by a little sin, shuck and jivin’
or else they’re left for dyin’
never having touched one dream
take care what ya’ll believe it’s…
the american scheme
·
peace
my name is black pearl
street mother to my sista girls
first mother to the world
now let me explain how we roll
see, it’s not our policy to strip souls or steal
lives
but we do thrive on respect and will crack necks
if we don’t get…it’s
not what we want…violence
but most won’t hear the cries silent or
comprehend…the feeling of
no ends, near end, days when
survival becomes a personal h-ll, desperation
swells to a boundless point
maintaining is the main thing
can’t spare moments of thought about life in
the joint
no, no we’re not a gang
and…poon-tang clan…
that’s just a pseudonym
yeah…
yeah ghetto girls got vocab too, slim
anyway…our real name is a secret, it’s sacred
we’ll take it to our graves
it was given to us by a yoruban priestess who
blessed us saying…
go…give praise to god and ancestral ways
be an army of sistas -fate chiselers– renegades
– resistors
til the end of your days
·
yo, yo what up?
name is half-blood
half blood speaks my roots
my pops a n-gg- from the south, my moms a n-gg-
from the boot
yeah, yeah ya’ll know hannibal and his boys was
knockin em with the truth
but the itals don’t want to admit dat sh-t, deny
it quick
behaviordon’t lie though
no, i ain’t down with the gambino…
family…no, i don’t even think they’d accept me
rather see he swingin’ from a tree
or me and my sistas faces squeezed between his
knees as we…
blow on his dreams
why am i so raw?
cause i don’t f-ck with protocol or propriety
i may not be high society but i’m still a
f-cking lady
jeans and a hoodie’s all i need and i still have
all the mistas checkin for me, see
so don’t try to play me
yeah, yeah blood’s the foul tongue one, baby
but this tongue’s been known
to lick a n-gg- crazy
it’s rumored one head even lost his way home
all zooted up on the blood’s home grown
i sends em to a comfort zone
on the real though
we on some next sh-t out here in the open air
home
and though every day ain’t duckin bucks from
young modern day capones
all alone on hard cold concrete
and all alone on tv’s sweeps week
ain’t sh-t alike
that’s why we got to roll tight
gots to keep the clique thick, right?
represent the earths on lock down sis
·
i’m coming to you via live remote
where one of americas finest women’s
correctional…jokes
i…i…i’m sorry
i…i…i didn’t mean to do it
i…i…i sold something that should have been
legalized anyway
it was the only way i could feed my ba
it was the only way i could say
f-ck america
name is ra-ra
round the way bourgeoisie is what they call me
i’m married, got one son
f-ck no the wedding wasn’t shot gun
come one, come all
for a small fee you’ll see…
the freak
ghetto anomaly
college grad turned bad
rocks media minds with combined intellect and
hood wisdom
f-cked around and sold ism
now she dreams in prison
opposition’s what she thrived on
now i’m singin’ field songs
for m-ssa jail keeper
as i do the work of men to keep his grounds neater
given time in reverse
i doubt i’d do this sh-t the same
cause this rehab concept…
it ain’t nothing but a glorified nation game
you win by getting over…
standing on the shoulders of the weak and mind
f-cked
it’s more corrupt on the cell block than the
street block
gots to keep your eyes c-cked
and your lips and legs locked
no doubt
peace to my man and my seed
i’m out

- ursula rucker

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