Let Me Tell You Where You're From

Seanchai

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    I see you with your friends
    Hanging out
    You're my little man
    No doubt
    And that's the part
    That kinda got me worried
    Kids these days
    Getting old in a hurry
    Everyday gun play
    By some crazy mutha
    Shooting up schools
    For no good reason other
    Than they're scared and confused
    Life's unfair so they choose
    To cock the glock
    And make the six o'clock news
    Which comes on the box
    Right after Jerky Springer
    Waving his finger
    At some studio ringer
    Talk show whore
    Making fun of the poor
    A punch in the jaw
    Crowd roars for more
    Like that wrestling federation
    It's a negative vibration
    Across the nation
    Television's on
    Pushing 'Leprechaun'
    So pull out the plug
    And let me tell you something son
    Let me tell you where you're from

    First thing,
    One time we were kings
    Under Brehon law
    Fair to the weak and the strong
    But thugs came in
    So called aristocratics
    Crossed the sea
    Gave us some static
    Have you heard before
    About Fiach O'Byrne at Glenmalure
    Picked up his sword
    Showed Lord Gray the door
    But An Gorta Mór
    Nearly wiped us out
    So we were poor
    By the time we came out
    To Brooklyn, U.S.A.
    Worked like slaves
    For no pay
    Both my Grandfathers
    Fought for their due
    The I.R.A became the T.W.U.
    But once more
    Thugs knocked on the door
    And once more son
    We went to war
    For five years in Burma
    Da was in the zone
    Uncle Andrew,
    Uncle Hughie,
    They never made it home
    So take some time out,
    Remember what they done
    And let me tell you something son,
    Let me tell you where you're from

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    I see you on the street
    You make me proud
    Keep your two feet
    On solid ground
    Confrontation everywhere
    You turn your head
    With no foundation
    You'll be easily led
    By all the wrong folks
    For all the wrong reasons
    Leave them on the shelf
    Look within yourself
    And keep it mind son
    You come from a tribe son
    You've got the heart
    Of a lion son
    That's how we've survived son
    So don't be no thug
    But don't be no herb either
    Don't give no one shit
    But don't take no shit neither
    To know where you're going
    You gotta know where you're from
    And let me tell you something son

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