Video Light - Politic Live, Risse

With hopes to be a video star, yes, this precious black harlot

More meat for the meat market

The matinees that she played

And the bumps on this road that shorty would take

She worked in the morning, taught dance in the evening

Auditioned for the videos on the weekend

Shorty was choice, light skin real cute

Directors often asked if she would pose in the nude

Was it the art or the sex they would try to pursue?

Stood 5' 6, weighed 132

She had a fat ass and she knew how to move

But one wrong step could throw off her groove

There’s some jobs you take and some you refuse

The difference between following and setting the rules

But your patients gone pay off soon stay on your lessons

Next morning got a call for a Sean Paul audition

Determined she is

For every cent ever paid to an agency

Or dance instructor

For every director or rap star

Who inappropriately touched her

For the sleepless nights

She would sacrifice

To be more than a whore

In the video light

Let’s take about sex and how it sells

How shorty sold her self short for a bill

In South Africa shorty got’a fuck for a meal

Cause her landlords horny wants some thing to feel

Who cares if she chills?

That’s just another vacancy that’ll fill he’s still paying the bills

If one could escape from the physical realm

And enter to a place where harmony dwells

Then truly we would see that we’re living in hell

Big up your self young sister

Life was on the right path but got caught up in a twister

And now you travel through Oz

With the lights, cameras and move stars

Glamour, gilts, whips, licks

Men breaking you off with chips for dip

Thing is that you lost in the missed of this

When did you become such a ruthless bitch?

How little attention we pay

To the rose that grew from concrete

As if we too would have come out unscathed

Had her shoes been on our feet

We criticize her means

To get into the industry

But never cared

When we seen her in the streets

What’s going on?

What’s the hold up?

When’s it gone be my turn I want a blow up?

The paper said 3:30 I’m here, I showed up

My bag got my gear, headshots, look these sluts

Ain’t got nothing on me

I was awarded Miss Edmonton in 93

And graduated to be Miss Grand Prix

Only get manicures from the finest boutiques

See my hair, this is mine, I don’t wear no weaves

Why I’m waiting in this line when I got a degree

Still I’m young, got time to chase my dreams

But the more I run the further they seem

To invest my time in vanity things

When they only looking for ass and tit rings

Maybe I think I’ll pass on this thing

Go back to class and be queen

Are you driven by self-esteem?

Or selfish themes?

That promote hair weaves

And lightning creams

Scared of enlightenment

So you lighten they’re tint

To be the next video hoe

That your friends resent

Vanity is our demise

So late we realize

We’d all look the same

If we had no eyes