Spanish Hips, Spanish Lips

We are New York Ricans. We're those people that you sneer at, ungrateful delinquents running streets; we probably had at least three abortions and a baby at home. Yup, that’s us. Given all the gifts that the government could possibly bestow and wanting nothing more for myself than to land a role on TV, “spreading” our “legs for the silver screen” as Jet puts it; meanwhile your kids have to struggle to make something of themselves. We're just a waste of space, a waste of air, more uneducated miscreants whose parents were just as bad.

We don’t have dreams. We don’t desire anything better for the future generations. Our men are gang-bangers, players, broke, abusive, and undoubtedly without ambition. We're on welfare, dropped out of school at sixteen, have three kids sometimes more, and spend more money than we have on clothes that too tight on us. Our children will follow us; it’s impossible to break a cycle that’s been spinning for so long.

Let’s just forget about you and focus on us. ‘Cause you don’t understand, too tied down to society. You don’t understand where we come from; it’s a place like no other. It’s New York, but not the one you know. For us, New York, is the place where we strut down the cracked sidewalks like we own the place and on every man’s lips is the typical slip. “Oy, Mami! Cuidado! Those hips are gonna cause an accident.” Look on the street, there’s the skid marks to prove it.

We're whore, you say. We can’t help ourselves until we've got three kids, all different daddies, and none that stuck around. Forget about the ones that keep their nose in the books, they’re not one of us. They probably were adopted or something. No, forget about them they probably don’t have the hips to make someone stop and let a simple hiss slide through their lips. No, they’re not a New York Rican, not at all.

We dropped out of school before we understood what it meant living from paycheck to paycheck. It wasn’t enough to watch our moms work to provide for us solo; it wasn’t enough to teach us about the real world. It wasn’t enough to teach us that nothing comes easy. Hell, Welfare got our backs. We’ll never struggle in life ‘cause there’s always a check in the mail.

Aspirations are for those who think they’re all that. It’s too much work to even think of reaching for anything beyond that weekly check, unless of course it’s a star role or a video on MTV. After all, We're lazier than anyone else on this earth. We enjoy living off your hard-earned money. You’re paying 40 grand for college? Good for you but that ain’t for us. College is for those who don’t have our hips or our lips and can’t land a rich man like we can.

We don’t need English, we got Spanish. It’ll get us through life better than any other tongue in the world. Ever hear them say, “Love how they scream ‘daddy’”? Didn’t think so; it’s a Spanish thing. Something you’ll never understand.

When we speak others stop and listen, ’cause our lips are forming words you can hardly understand. Don’t feel bad; it’s a Spanish thing. Our common language, found only on our lips and on our hips, is like none other the world. Stop a Dominican, ask if they understand; they won’t because it’s our common language, not theirs; it’s a New York Rican thing.

It’s vulgar you say? That doesn’t stop their lips from forming words you don’t wanna hear. A disgrace you say? If you were one of us you’d understand. It’s either love or hate; either you are or you’re not. There are those who, try as they might, can’t deny that they’re one of us. That when they move their Spanish hips people stop, trying to hear the rhythmic swish. When they move their Spanish lips, everyone listens to music coming out. Try as you might, you can’t deny, a New York Rican is what we are and we’ll never be anything that you‘d ever expect.