Yeah yeah yeah yeah This goes out to all the women and men From New York to London L.A. to Tokyo Struggling to keep their self-respect In this climate of misogyny And money worship And mass production of hip hop's illegitimate child (hip hop) And this especially goes out to Gillis Scott Herring 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 you 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 You know, doin' it and doin' it and doin' it well (nah come on now)
Your revolution will not be you smackin' it up Flippin' it, or rubbin' 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 you 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 Jamaican 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 deluxe Or having Akinyele's dream, (mm hmm) A 6-foot blowjob machine (mm 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