Heaven Help The M.F.'s - Stetsasonic

Struggle remembered by me and Stet members

Came close to death in '84 September

Hard times just to get on wax

Now the whack ones was on

Meanwhile we’re still waiting for a contract

Even all our contacts dissed us

And from experience

Imma have to discuss

The situation, in it’s entirety

Groups had records, ignore us and would try to be

Better than we was, like we was frozen

We would say peace, and they would keep walking

But you know what was the ultimate diss

Being booked on a show and told you’re not getting paid for this

Spending money, almost broke and

Riding the train so you gotta buy tokens

Taking the chance at the time (?)

Friends will rebel so there’s no one to lean on

Start with the teasin'

Say nigga please and, you never be successful

But they put us down without a reason

They would do it just for laughs

But the last laugh was done by us

Because we stuck to the path of rapping

Lips start flapping

Showing up to all our shows and start clapping

Like a blow pop went out like a sucker

Heaven help the motherfucker

The long ass lines and waiting out in the cold

But we on the guest list the ladies tell them

Who is Stetsasonic?

It don’t mean Jack

The front of the line?

We in the back

DB says fuck it and goes back to Middletown

The rest of the band?

Well we hang around

Long enough to find out the door’s closed

And no more can enter as far as the club goes

And so we leave

And we felt drained

We got no car, so we get on a train

We say to ourselves, that they’ll come a day

That we get on, and somebody’s gotta pay

So you ask me why we act so funny

Say we changed 'cause we got a little money

But we ain’t changed, we still the same

We just got wise and hip to the dumb game

Like some get stuck, and some get stucker

But those that stick Stet, heaven help the mother fucker

So you thought that we were soft and pink

That the Stet would fade away in a blink

Now let me tell you man, you’re losing focus

Thought up your ass, 'cause bogy you’re getting bogus

A type of sucker who once was a brother

For money, up the river he would sell his own mother

Mr. Big Dick, rapping for the big hit

Who wants the credit, but won’t work a lick

What did you bring to build for the long run

That’s how you’re living?

You’re going out son

Ho hum like all the rest of the bums

We kicking up dope drums, you’re picking up slum

So here’s the end to your sleazy sly

The perfect time to bid your ass bye-bye

And when you thought the Stet tale would end

We’re off and running

And the legend begins

Over and over, the burden we can shoulder

Stars that shine as bright as a nova

(?) keys man they keep the crowd swining

(?) flakers we’re not slaying

A rugged stampede and all out rumba

Again and again we’re back to crush the doubt

If you ever think to step to this sucka

A warning, heaven help you mother fucker