What you see, is what you get ♪ My roots, it's kind of aching My mind is kind of sore My streets sometimes dirty The crowd wants some more My body a collision Of pride and control Underneath my red dress A skin made of gold Made of gold ♪ What you see, is what you get What you see, is what you get, get, get... ♪ My roots, it's kind of aching My mind, kind of sore Underneath my red dress A skin made of gold Made of gold I see a woman, with a soul I see a city, no one controls