Well, I rap.
by Francine DuBois
and you woulda thought I told Mom
I was a drug dealer or a murderer,
cuz they're all the same thing in Mom's eyes.
see, Mom, they don't make women like Ann-Margaret anymore,
and while I wish I could just wear tights and a sweater
while shaking my ass onstage, I gotta wear the gold bra
and the diamond-studded thong and sing about shoving
men in all my orifaces. Mom, I'm doing it for you,
so you can have all the things I never had growin' up:
fame, fortune, lawsuits, fifteen minutes on MTV
when I bring the cameras in your hair salon,
and a comfortable nursing home when it's time.
it ain't so bad, right, Ma? i bought you a Cadillac . . .
Francine's Version -- Hezekiah's
Version -- Inspiration
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