Your Revolution

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