What you see is what you get
My roots... it’s kind of aching
My mind is kind of sore
My streets sometimes dirty
the crowd wants some more
My body... a collision
Of pride and control
Underneath my red
dress
A skin made of gold
What you see is what you get
What you see is what you get
I see a woman with a soul
I see a city no one controls
What you see is what you get
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