Chorus:       You talk    Like a white girl    Do you think    That you're white, girl    A line some drew in the sand    Some will call you an Uncle Tom    If you support Uncle Sam          Verse 1:       Ebonix or Hooked On Phonics    Take your pick    But they'll call you a city slicker or a hick    Yea, I know I'm black    But must every other word be homey or wack    There was a time when slaves couldn't read or write    But now you're sitting here telling me it's alright    To talk like a clown    To prove your down    Speaking that gibberish to anyone around    Some will see it as buffoonery    An inarticulate form of cartoonery    Your intellect will be hidden    Beneath your words    And when you speak    You will not be heard    Fraternized or patronized    Until the day you realize    Slang is fine    But not all the time       Repeat chorus       Verse 2:       Hey, what can I say    I never felt comfortable speaking that way    You brag that you're from the hood    And how living there is supposed to be so good    But you never hear anyone say    I'm saving up to move to the ghetto one day    Most people in the ghetto want something better out of life    Rather than to be saddled with crime and strife    You keep listening to rappers    Telling you what black is    When they've made millions and left the ghetto off the biz    They're living in the suburbs that's mostly white    But they're sitting there telling you "be real" and "dynomite"    That's like telling an unmarried woman about your wedding day    Or telling somebody on a diet about a buffet    You ought to think about that    Being black is not about the clothes on your back    Its not about every other word being homey or wack    Or walking with a swagger    Or getting drunk until you stagger    You're born black    It's not something you acquire    It's not about your words or your attire       Repeat chorus twice