Dit is een lied over Zwarte mensen. Over het eten, het haar, de gebroken gezinnen en over zoveel meer. Het is natuurlijk Amerikaanse versie, maar het zijn de unversele onderwerpen die je ook ziet in Caribische (Surinaamse en Antilliaanse) gemeenschappen.
I love black folk (black)
Black look like a revolution (black)
Look like a family reunion in the park (in the park)
Black look like it's a different world
Sound like a crawfish boil in New Orleans
Black folk joke around like Martin
And got paintings from J.J. in the living room
It sounds strong, look like sacrifice
It be, flowers blooming in the summertime
Black sound like old songs, smell like good food
And it tastes like heart disease
But it feel like maze at Jazz Fest
Black sound like something that hurt, like a hard test
Black sound like skin, like something dark
It look like hair, yeah, black sound like rough hair, and good hair
Look like history, sound spiritual
Black sound like years, like working, like night
Black sound like money, look like Walmart
Like corner stores, like cash registers singing
Black sound like four-hundred years, smell like Oprah
Impactful like Martin, look like Cicely Tyson
Sing like Nina, got a ass like Serena (sing like Nina)
Feel like broken homes and Section 8
Black smell like crack and collard greens
Sounds motivational, feels like church
Look like big Sunday hats and ribbons
Smile like your mama
Eyes like the sun
Beautiful child, oh, you're the one
Fly like your daddy
Make me so happy
Beautiful child, oh, you're the one
Sound like thick plaits swingin' and sneaky uncles
Look like Tyler Perry making money
Sound like hating, feel frustrating, don't it?
Like they don't get it, like they won't ever get it, huh?
Like, "Push your personal feelings of racial injustice
so far underneath the carpet, that you trip over your own family history"
But I love me some black folk
I love the hair grease and the rental fees
The front row seats, the police, the projects, the mustard greens
Being late, social security checks, government assistance
Bougie black looking good
Bags of hair, fake press on nails, rat tail combs
Stunting gold Jean, gold teeth
Black men and big feet
I love me some black folk
For they are the people that were made from the darkest parts of the sky
Smile like your mama
Eyes like the sun
Beautiful child, oh, you're the one
Fly like your daddy
Make me so happy
Beautiful child, oh, you're the one
I'm in a place when I see your face
Must be nostalgia, ah
I'll never forget the day that we met
Beautiful child, oh, you're the one (yeah)
Ah-ah-ah
Black don't crack, I love your skin
I don't see that from other kin
It's today, any day (way)
I see me and mine doing different times
Pushing boundaries
West coast, east coast, overseas
From the 504, what you think I came to L.A. for?
Everybody from the 504
Source: LyricFind