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Sacrifice, My Foot

The thing people can talk about sacrifice
It can full my mouth and make me laugh
Everybody going back to work in Liberia
Claim they make sacrifices to leave America
Left good paying job, good this, good that
Ha ha ha ha, ha, I don't want laugh yah

In Liberia, less work, plenty money, plenty --
Take home pay reaches home in full and more
You get houseboy, house girl, driver, cook --
They call you boss man, boss lady, chief --
You can't even brush your own teeth
The laws, when available, sometimes bow

Here in America, eight hours that's eight
You take it you pay, straight talk
Your paycheck alone your ma and pa
Who gets your time to call you papa sir?
Driver, cook, errand boy, what side?
No reserved parking, seat or lane

And who says you can beat anybody?
When they say no, that's it; no!
No role assignments, that fifty-fifty
Everyone busy, sleeping, or working
You can't even talk long - day time minutes
You can't keep the air cool on for long
The heat bills are killing whether gas or oil

So it makes plenty sense to skip it all:
The hubbub, straitjackets and dog-eat-dog
Government that elephant meat
Pay your mortgage from Liberia
File your taxes in America
Call that sacrifice if you want
And I will still be laughing
Ha ha ha, y'all hold me
High paying job? Sacrifice, my foot

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