From Cotton Field to Classroom

Mmm. Red dirt on my ankles. Jack dust on my hands.

Grandma said, "Baby, keep walking. They don't have to understand."

Pink summers in the heat. Counting stars to stay awake. Dreams bigger than

that county line name they tried to take. From the cotton field

to the classroom. Look at me now. Ooh.

I turned every whisper you can't into "watch me" loud. I carry every

mama, every sister in my stride. From the cotton field

to the classroom. I walk in with my head high. They