Yes, I's finished on y'all farm land with yo' boll weevils and all, And pluckin' y'all's chickens, fryin' mother's oats in grease. I's Free now, thanks to yo', Massa Lincoln, emancipator of the slaves. Yeah, yeah, yeah, emanci-mother-fuckin-pator of the slaves. Four score I said four score and seven years ago Oh sock it to 'em baby, you're sounding better all the time! Our forefathers, I mean all our forefathers Brought forth upon this here continent a new nation Concieved, conceived like we all was In liberty, and dedicated to the one I love I mean dedicated to the proposition That all men, honey, I tell you all men Are created equal Happy birthday, Abie baby, Happy birthday to you Happy birthday, Abie baby, Happy birthday to you Bang! Bang? Ha ha. Shit, I'm not dying for no white man. (Tell it like it is, baby.)
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