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She sang like an angelTo the chattering platesBut your pimp and your pusherYou both thought were greatWell, you earned enough moneyTo pay for your stuffIt's great having brown skinIt doesn't show upYou sang like an angelTo the chattering cupsAt the end of the dayYou weren't tough enoughYour pimp and your pusherWell, they beat you upWell, It's great having brown skinIt doesn't show upWell, your voice became sand-paperSand-paper wornAs your heart it was brokenYour heart it was tornAnd when you diedThe police all queued upIt's great having brown skinIt doesn't show up From Letras Mania