I do not want no pretty woman. First thing you know, you fall in love with her-then you got to kill somebody about her. She'll make you so jealous, you'll bust!

The rain plays a little sleep song on our roof at night And I love the rain.

The first of the month falls every month, too, North or South. And them white folks who sends bills never forgets to send them-the phone bill, the furniture bill, the water bill, the gas bill, insurance, house rent.

I am a Negro: Black as the night is black, Black like the depths of my Africa.

Money and art are far apart.

Hard as I try, daddy-o, I really do not like concert singers. They are always singing in some foreign language.

Life dosent frighten me at all.