Chocolate. Cinnamon. Snow Bunny…Get up on that pole, and Bounce…that…booty. I can imagine words as these floating around the walls of Onyx, Penthouse Club, Mr. Lucky’s, and Magic City. Crowds going wild over all the bodies twirling, but no one knows their victory. No one knows their story.
So, this right here’s a stripper song. Eager to see you dance baby girl…I’ll watch you dance all night long. Because I am you, and you are me. Who am I…to judge you? You got it…dancing to bring a hot plate to a kitchen stained with molded stories. Your little girl sits down at the table looking up at you…with twinkling eyes, sparkling in adoration with so much idolatry, but she don’t know what Mama gotta do to make sure she eats. She doesn’t know Mama’s stripper song. Nor does she know Mama’s story. Everybody makes it seem like this life is so easy. Sure, things could’ve been different. But, to you, this was the only way. Scooping by bodies in a crackhouse while you were young, you swore you’d never let your child see that day. These words are for you…for your worth…and for you trying to find your way.
Hit the floor as soon as you see the money…because who needs college when you can throw it back to rise to the top? Insecurities floating in the heart but a magical body flaunting in the eyes of lust and deceit. Who needs a husband? Look at all these men in here staring at me. I won’t knock ya baby girl… if this is how your mind thinks. I’m not here to judge you Queen…you’re still worthy. With a big ole’ ghetto booty, maybe that’s all you see. But, remember Queen. I said I am you..and you are me. So, all I see is light. All I see is beauty. So, if you walk through the doors of a Playaz Club for some sort of validation for insecurity…just lay down. You heart that beat? That’s deeper than anything the eyes can see. If you need the racks, because that’s the only way you don’t feel ugly…then you’re doing the wrong dance baby. Look in the mirror…and see what I see. I don’t see insecurity. I don’t see any of the men that broke you. All I see…is purity.
I won’t knock the game. Maybe you’re in here to find a balla…shot-calla…with high hopes he’ll give you all the victory. If you can be the next Cardi B, what does it matter how you got your money? As long as everyone respects the grind…and respect the booty. Because no one knows your struggle, right? Growing up with a family to constantly feed, yet constantly going to school… just to get bullied. And now you can hold your own- your own money, your own weave, your own jewelry. So, salute the grind. All you see is late nights and early mornings. You got it. And this is the stripper song…a song for you…a song for you to dance all night long.
See, I didn’t write this to condone you or look down on you. I wrote this…just for you to know…I see you. And that man who has his 9 to 5 yet makes you the weekend? He sees you, too. This is the stripper song. He watches you dance all night long. You got it. You got it. So, don’t you ever let him fling that money and let him think he owns you. Don’t you ever let him touch you and let him think he owns you. Don’t you ever earn your money and let him think he can CONTROL YOU. I wrote this..because he may say he see you…but I. SEE. YOU. This is your life…and you…are YOU.
Once again, I ain’t mad at ya…and I ain’t judgin’ you. No matter where you are…You are me, and I am you. My only wish is that you look in the mirror…Look at you, and no matter why you “do you”…just know you are will ALWAYS be worthy enough…you will always be glorified enough…you will always be beautiful enough…to be you. You are effervescent beauty. You are…far more precious than rubies….The pole could bring you all the money…but your heart baby girl. Your heart is as freely flowing as the sea.