Me is what them call illegitimate, that mean say me is a criminal, bomba rassclaat! That's why me go write a song called 'Illegitimate Children.' It took me years to find out I was one.
Is word, sound, and powa dat break down de barriers of oppression an drive away transgression an rule equality.
I travel the garden of music, thru inspiration. It's a large, very large garden, seen?
It's not the one-half that's never been told; it's the three-quarters.
To have the truth in your possession you can be found guilty, sentenced to death.
Every year, I hear about Thanksgiving. Who do one give thanks to? ... And who is giving thanks? What are they giving thanks for? For lots of poverty that's on the earth and lots of war that is a-rumoring all over the earth? For lots of people who die daily and the crime that multiply?
