You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust,
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
                                      ’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
                                     With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
                                                                          Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
                                     Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
You may shoot me with your words,
                                     You may cut me with your eyes,
Does my sexiness upset you?
                                     Does it come as a surprise
                                                                          That I dance like I've got diamonds
                                     At the meeting of my thighs?
                                                                          Out of the huts of history’s shame