She's got another fantasy,
She lives in flat number twenty three,
Picked first prize for carnival queen,
And now she takes her clothes off,
Collects the covers of her magazines,
She longs to be another teenage dream,
The problem is she's turning forty three,
She still takes her clothes off.
She got the nickname porta bubble Joan,
They found her dead, dead as nails at home.
And she said, I'm gonna be another Marilyn
Bleach my hair and get real thin,
And everybody's gonna wanna dance with me.
She loved to have her little fantasies,
She longed to be the wife of Jimmy Dean,
But Jimmy's head sits in Jimmy's knees,
She loves to take her clothes off.
Police are looking around at twenty three,
They found her hanging from her swollen feet,
They saw her dance last in Woolworth street,
She loved to take her clothes off.
She got the nickname porta bubble Joan,
They found her dead, dead as nails at home.
And she said, I'm gonna be another Marilyn
Bleach my head and get real thin,
And everybody's gonna wanna dance with me.
Everybody's gonna wanna dance with me,
Everybody wants to be the carnival queen.
Everybody's gonna wanna dance with me,
Everybody wants to be the carnival king or queen.
We all read the books.
She takes her clothes off,
One by one, one by one, off again.[(Wyclef) Lauryn in parentheses]
Yes, Refugee Camp (Yeah, Yeah Refugee Camp unh! Ahh!)
Yo...It never stops, what?!
We comin' back! (Murder dat buoy!)
Ninety seven to two thousand, check it! (Ha! Ha! La!)
[Wyclef]
Jericho sound...
No Woman No Cry (We 'bout to set it!)
Yes! Yes! (We 'bout to set it!)
Yo! We 'bout to set it! (L-Boogie, yes yo, what?!)
We 'bout to set it! (We'bout to set it!)
Yes! We 'bout to set it! (We 'bout to set it!)
[Lauryn "L-Boogie" Hill - Verse One]
Yo, L won't take the mark though I swim with sharks
I make the dark see the light
Board the ark for forty nights
Times reveal a broken seal, like a (pause) fiend steal
You for fake, I'm for real, like Jesus Christ's last meal
You make deals with devils
The soul descends infinite levels
Pray to God I see the next, rescripture in Holy text then
ask to be forgiven for premarital sex
In the same breath I speak with death about the times
and how many joined his army over bullshit rhymes
You see L change the topic, clear as fiber-optics
Make talk about your clothes become microscopic decisions
Young bitches in prison, messing 'round with that life
Thug, drug dealer wife
Consequence cut like a knife, then we learned that
only Jah and God can protect
You know the story, housing projects is purgatory
So, teach the youths they got more rights than Miranda
Tell 'em this whole shit is propaganda! Word!
[Wyclef]
Yo, sound system, you know what I'm sayin'?!
Jericho Sound...System!
Turn up your sound...Systems!
[Wyclef - Verse Two]
Yo, here he comes down the road
A black Maserati, what up Raheem? (Whatup?! Whatup?! Whatup?!)
He never fought unless necessary
You shot at? He shot back
The whole block felt the bang
Last man to fight with his fists his name was Jackie Chan
Not Charles Brownson
Once you hear the whistle, even Grandmas is stackin' up on old