| Yeah yeah, yeah this goes out to all the women and men from New York to
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| London to LA to Tokyo struggling to keep their self-respect in this climate
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| Of misogyny, money worship and mass production of hip-hop's illegitimate child
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| Hip-Pop.And this especially goes out to Gil Scott-Heron, friend, living legend
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| And proto-rapper who wrote «The Revolution will not be Televised.» |
| Much Respect
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| Your revolution will not happen between these thighs
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| Your revolution will not happen between these thighs
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| Your revolution will not happen between these thighs
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| Not happen between these thighs
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| Not happen between these thighs
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| The real revolution ain’t about booty size
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| The Versaces you buys, or the Lexus you drives
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| And though we’ve lost Biggie Smalls
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| Baby your notorious revolution
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| Will never allow you to lace no lyrical douche, in my bush
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| Your revolution will not be killing me softly, with Fugees
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| Your revolution ain’t gonna knock me up without no ring
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| And produce little future emcees
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| Because that revolution will not happen between these thighs |
| Your revolution will not find me in the backseat of a jeep
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| With LL, hard as hell, you know doin it and doin it and doin it well
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| Doin it and doin it and doin it well, nah come on now
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| Your revolution will not be you smacking it up, flipping it, or rubbing it down
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| Nor will it take you downtown or humpin around
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| Because that revolution will not happen between these thighs
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| Your revolution will not have me singing, ain’t no nigga like the one I got
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| And your revolution will not be sending me for no drip, drip VD shot
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| And your revolution will not involve me, feelin your nature rise
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| Or helping you fantasize
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| Because that revolution will not happen between these thighs
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| No no, not between these thighs
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| Oh, my Jamican brother, your revolution will not make you feel bombastic
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| And really fantastic
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| And have you groping in the dark for that rubber wrapped in plastic
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| You will not be touching your lips to my triple dip of french vanilla
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| Butter pecan, chocolate delux
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| Or having Akinyele’s dream, m-hmm a 6-foot blowjob machine m-hmm |
| You want to subjugate your queen? |
| uh-huh
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| Think I’m a put it in my mouth, just cuz you made a few bucks?
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| Please brother please
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| Your revolution will not be me tossing my weave
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| And making me believe I’m some caviar-eating ghetto mafia clown
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| Or me giving up my behind, just so I can get signed
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| And maybe having somebody else write my rhymes
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| I’m Sarah Jones, not Foxy Brown
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| You know I’m Sarah Jones, not Foxy Brown
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| Your revolution makes me wonder, where could we go
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| If we could drop the empty pursuit of props and ego
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| We’d revolt back to our Roots, use a little Common Sense
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| On a quest to make love De La Soul, no pretense
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| But your revolution will not be you flexing your little sex and status
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| To express what you feel
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| Your revolution will not happen between these thighs
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| Will not happen between these thighs
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| Will not be you shaking and me *yawn* faking
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| Between these thighs
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| Because the real revolution, that’s right I said the real revolution
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| You know I’m talking about the revolution
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| When it comes, it’s gonna be real |
| It’s gonna be real
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| It’s gonna be real
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| When it finally comes
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| When it finally comes
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| It’s gonna be real, yeah yeah |