Talib Kweli - Four Women lyrics

[Talib Kweli] (Spoken) Yea, so we got this tune called "Four Women" right Originally, it was by Nina Simone She said it was inspired by, you know Down south. In the south, they used to call her Mother Auntie She said No Mrs Just Auntie She said if anybody ever called her Auntie She'd burn the whole goddamn place down I'm over past that Coming into the new millennium, we can't forget our elders [Talib Kweli] I got off the 2 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 107 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 get a sense of where she was at, imagine that Livin' a century, the strenght of her memories Felt like an angel had been sent to me She lived from n***a to colored to negro to black To afro then african-american and right back to n***a You figure she'd be bitter in the twilight But she alright, cuz she done seen the circle of life yo Her skin was black like it was packed with melanin Back in the days of slaves she packin' like Harriet Tubman Her arms are long and she moves like a song Feet with corns, hand with callouses But her heart is warm and her hair is wooly And it attract a lot of energy even negative She gotta dead that the head wrap is her remedy Her back is strong and she far from a vagabond This is the back of the masters' whip used to crack upon Strong enough to take all the pain, that's been Inflicted again and again and again and again and flipped It to the love for her children nothing else matters What do they call her? They call her aunt Sara Woman singing in the background [Talib Kweli] (+ Background Vocals) I know a girl with a name as beautiful as the rain Her face is the same but she suffers an unusual pain Seems she only deals with losers who be usin' them games Chasin' the real brothers away like she confused in the brain She tried to get it where she fit in On that American Dream mission paid tuition For the receipt to find out her history was missing and started flippin Seeing the world through very different eyes People askin' her what she'll do when it comes time to choose sides Yo, her skin is yellow, it's like her face is blond word is bond And her hair is long and straight just like sleeping beauty See, she truly feels like she belong in 2 worlds And that she can't relate to other girls Her father was rich and white still livin' 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 Through life with hate and spite inside her mind That keep her up to the break of light a lot of times (I gotta find myself) (3X) She had to remind herself They called her Safronia the unwanted seed Blood still blue in her vein and still red when she bleeds (Don't, don't, don't hurt me again) (8X) [Talib Kweli] (+ Background Vocals) Teenage lovers sit on the stoops up in Harlem Holdin' hands under the Apollo marquis dreamin of stardom Since they was born the streets is watchin' and schemin' And now it got them generations facin' deseases That don't k** you they just got problems And complications that get you first Yo, it's getting worse, when children hide the fact that they pregnant Cuz they scared of giving 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 her master The children of the enslaved, they grow a little faster They bodies become adult While they keepin' the thoughts of a child her arrival Into womanhood was heemed up by her survival Now she 25, barely grown out her own Doin' whatever it takes strippin', workin' 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's alright whatever way I want to fix it It's alright it's fine) (But my hips, these sweet hips of mine invite you daddy) (And 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 got to pay me) (You better quit with all the question, sugar who's little girl am I) (Why I'm yours if you got enough money to buy) (You better stop with the compliments we running out of time,) (You wanna talk whatever we could do that it's your dime) (From Harlem's from where I came, don't worry about my name,) (Up on one-two-five they call me sweet thang) Scratches + Woman singing in the background [Talib Kweli] (+ Background Vocals) A daughter come up in Georgia, ripe and ready to plant seeds Left the plantation when she saw a sign even thought she can't read It came from God and when life get hard she always speak to him She'd rather k** her babies than let the master get to 'em She on the run up north to get across that Mason-Dixon In church she learned how to be patient and keep wishin' The promise of eternal life after d**h for those that God bless She swears the next baby she'll have will breathe a free breath And get milk from a free breast And love beeing alive Otherwise they'll have to give up being themselves to survive Being maids, cleaning ladies, maybe teachers or college graduates, nurses, housewives, prostitutes, and drug addicts Some will grow to be old women, some will die before they born They'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 enuff,) (I'll k** the first muthaf**a that mess with me, I never bluff) (I ain't got time to lie, my life has been much too rough,) (Still running with barefeet, I ain't got nothin' but my soul,) (Freedom is the ultimate goal Life and d**h is small on the whole, in many ways) (I'm awfully bitter these days 'cuz the only parents God gave me, they were slaves,) (And it crippled me, I got the destiny of a casualty,) (But I live through my babies and I change my reality) (Maybe one day I'll ride back to Georgia on a train,) (Folks 'round there call me Peaches, I guess that's my name.)