When I was a little girl
my Momma would shampoo my long,
thick, bushy, uncontrollable, hair.
shampoo, press and curl.
Ouch! Ouch!
Hush girl, I'm not hurting you!
'Bout ten loosely braided locks fall from my thick mane.
As I sit in front of the heat vent waiting for it to tame.
Why my hair so bushy? I say to myself.
My head hurts SO bad!
Why Momma always making such a fuss over my head?
Come here girl let me comb yo hair out.
Ouch, Ouch!
If you put yo hand up here one mo time I'll hit you with this brush
I heard Momma shout.
What is this madness all about?
Sizzle, Sizzle, sizzle went the pressing oil as the hot comb
cooked my hair to pristine silkiness.
It's hot in here, my neck hurts, can I take a break?
I'm half way done, Please, just sit still for goodness sake!
Shampoo, comb,
comb, part and grease
that scalp.
Got to rescue this girl from the cursed African nap.
When all her work was thru, she'd say, Now don't tell no one what I done
Don't you dare.
If they say, do you get your hair pressed?
Say, No I don't, cause I got good hair!
If this hair so good why do I feel so bad?
I know what I'm gonna do when I get old enough
I ain't gonna shampoo press and curl.
I'm tired of all this deceitful stuff!
I'm gonna set my hair free
When I grow up,
I'm gonna just be me !
