"Ricans run this" says the tag at West Side field
Youthful wishful thinking but I get the idea
And to the white majority in this town it might seem strange
But starting with this neighborhood maybe times are gonna change
Makes me think, back to when I was younger
And, if you can believe it, even fucking dumber
Back of the bus, headphones on, alone
You don't even want to talk, to anyone
Hear kids speaking a different language, and think:
That "this is America, am I right?"
Through your headphones punk bands are screaming at you
You. Are. Not. Right.