Wiggy (Alt) Songtext
von Gil Scott‐Heron

People always asks us
You know, like about uh
Uh, things like um
"What do you like in dashikis"
Says something about five, four
Aha, a hundred and twenty pounds
But uh, aha

One of the things they happen to ask me is about
Which I decided to comment on
It is uh, aha
Wigs, we got a poem here called
"Wiggy"
And uh
And we like to do that right quick
Do you mind?


Still, Jemima du-head-ragged
Her 1920 mind was gagged
Undigging how very counterfeit that thing
Across her mind did sit
Wiggy

Gold and blonde, blood-red and blue
Sizzled, frizzled, and greasy too
Black woman still dig imitation
The mother of our horse-hair nation
Wiggy

Chemicalize your nappy top
Comb and brush that store-bought mop
Saturday Night, you storm the block
Paint resembling electric shock
Woman, you are a laughingstock
Wiggy

′Cause baby, we dig fuzzy heads
Cotton-soft, not woolward lead
Brillo crowns we all adore
As long as we are sure
It's yours


That′s called, Wiggy
We got to talk, Charlie
Me and you, we got to talk, ehehe
Scrapping this

First, we're gonna talk about the hat you wore in here
And then we gonna talk about, you know
Oh, what's happening on your drums?
Ahaha, you know