Yeah yeah yeah yeah 
 This goes out to all the women and men 
 From New York to London 
 L.A. to Tokyo 
 [bad word] to keep their self-respect 
 In this climate of misogyny 
 And money worship 
 And mass production of hip hop's illegitimate child (hip hop) 
 And this especially goes out to Gillis Scott Herring 
 Friend, living legend, and proto-rapper who wrote 
 The revolution will not be televised 
 Much respect

 Your revolution will not happen between these thighs 
 Your revolution will not happen between these thighs 
 Your revolution will not happen between these thighs 
 Not happen between these thighs 
 Not happen between these thighs

 The real revolution ain't about booty size 
 The Versaces you buys 
 Or the Lexus you drives 
 And though we've lost Biggie Smalls 
 Baby, your notorious revolution 
 Will never allow you to lace no lyrical douche in my bush 
 Your revolution will not be you killing me softly with Fugees 
 Your revolution ain't gonna knock me up without no ring 
 And produce little future emcees 
 Because that revolution will not happen between these thighs

 Your revolution will not find me in the backseat of a jeep 
 With LL hard as [bad word] 
 You know, doin' it and doin' it and doin' it well 
 You know, doin' it and doin' it and doin' it well [bad word] on now)

 Your revolution will not be you smackin' it up 
 Flippin' it, [bad word]  it down 
 Nor will it take you downtown or humpin' around 
 Because that revolution will not happen between these thighs

 Your revolution will not have me singing 
 "Ain't no [bad word] like the one I got" 
 And your revolution will not be you sending me for no drip, drip VD 
 shot 
 And your revolution will not involve me feelin' your nature rise 
 Or helping you fantasize 
 Because that revolution will not happen between these thighs 
 No no, not between these thighs

 Oh, my Jamaican brother, your revolution will not make you feel 
 Bombastic and really fantastic 
 And have you groping in the dark for [bad word] wrapped in plastic

 You will not be touching your lips to my triple dip of french 
 vanilla, butter pecan, chocolate deluxe 
 Or having Akinyele's dream, (mm hmm) 
 6-foot [bad word] machine (mm hmm) 
 You want to subjugate your queen? (uh-huh) 
 Think I'm a put it in my mouth just cuz you made a few bucks? 
 Please brother please

 Your revolution will not be me tossing my weave 
 And making me believe I'm some caviar-eating ghetto mafia clown 
 Or me giving up my behind, just so I can get signed 
 And maybe having somebody else write my rhymes 
 I'm Sarah Jones, not Foxy Brown 
 You know I'm Sarah Jones, not Foxy Brown

 Your revolution makes me wonder, where could we go 
 If we could drop the empty pursuit of props and ego 
 We'd revolt back to our Roots, use a [bad word] Sense 
 On a quest to make love De La Soul, no pretense

 But your revolution will not be you flexing your little  and status 
 To express what you feel 
 Your revolution will not happen between these thighs 
 Will not happen between these thighs 
 Will not be you shaking and me (*yawn*) faking 
 Between these thighs 
 Because the real revolution 
 That's right I said the real revolution 
 You know I'm talking about the revolution 
 When [bad word]  it's gonna be real 
 It's gonna be real 
 It's gonna be real 
 When it [bad word] 
 When it [bad word] 
 It's gonna be real, yeah yeah