Rob Fortune - The Undercla** lyrics

Vs 1: When the clubs close out in the heart of Manhattan And the never sleeping city settles down for a napping Somebody's gotta empty all the heavy metal baskets Separate the people from the sea of yellow traffic Sweep the trash of the upper working cla**men Scars from the broken champagne gla**es Whatever happens he handles it pa**ive Cause while we play the front he takes the rut on the backend You barely see him cause he's not European When something needs cleaning is the only time you need em You don't wanna be him, his work is complicated Your hands are to smooth to do a job so degrading But he stays on his sh** no complaining To you he's just another spick n***a but to me he's courageous When you're working for a minimum wages And never spend a moment aggravated he should be congratulated Chs: New York City nights, bright lights pretty sights Somebody's gotta keep it looking all pretty right When the cities at a stand still they keep it moving Its a f**ed up job but somebody gotta do it Vs 2: You can find em in Asian, East and West Indian communities African immigrants looking for unity Say what you wanna they don't care about your scrutiny All they care about is a better opportunity While you and me complain about working everyday They taking our jobs, and doing it for nothing Cause when you come from nothing, a little equals something They maximize the minimal and minimize consumption He nurture's his children, and cares for his wife Cause all he cares about is a better way of life He lives within his means, he gives what he receives He goes to work the same everyday real fatigued The cities still awake while everyone is sleeping He sleeps in the day and awakes in the evening He never calls out, vacations an illusion It's a f**ed up job but somebody's gotta do it Chs: Vs 3: This goes out to the caboose conductor The transit authorities, the housekeepers-90% of em minorities The homeless musicians, the talent less beggars The Ahamed's and papi's at the one stop bodega's Busboy's, bartenders, yellow cab drivers We still show em love even though they pa** by us The nurses and Nannies, who deal with little white pricks The project janitors who work upon the night shift The open MIC hosts and the open MIC performers The open MIC attendants who stay just to support us The dudes 12 to 12 hand to hand on the corner The mta employees the backbone the aura Of the never sleeping city, the apple, its core The folks who go unseen, never honored or adorned Take a look at history we're the allure of new York Clock alarms unlock the bombs, they're the calm before the war comes