SoSoon - The Underclass [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Vs 1: When the clubs close out in the heart of Manhattan
And the never sleeping city settles down for a napping
Somebody’s gotta empty all the heavy metal baskets
Separate the people from the sea of yellow traffic

Sweep the trash of the upper working classmen
Scars from the broken champagne glasses
Whatever happens he handles it passive
Cause while we play the front he takes the rut on the backend

You barely see him cause he's not European
When something needs cleaning is the only time you need em
You don't wanna be him, his work is complicated
Your hands are to smooth to do a job so degrading

But he stays on his shit no complaining
To you he's just another spick nigger but to me he's courageous
When you’re working for a minimum wages
And never spend a moment aggravated he should be congratulated

Chs: New York City nights, bright lights pretty sights
Somebody’s gotta keep it looking all pretty right
When the cities at a stand still they keep it moving
Its a fucked up job but somebody gotta do it

Vs 2: You can find em in Asian, East and West Indian communities
African immigrants looking for unity
Say what you wanna they don't care about your scrutiny
All they care about is a better opportunity

While you and me complain about working everyday
They taking our jobs, and doing it for nothing
Cause when you come from nothing, a little equals something
They maximize the minimal and minimize consumption

He nurture's his children, and cares for his wife
Cause all he cares about is a better way of life
He lives within his means, he gives what he receives
He goes to work the same everyday real fatigued

The cities still awake while everyone is sleeping
He sleeps in the day and awakes in the evening
He never calls out, vacations an illusion
It’s a fucked up job but somebody’s gotta do it

Chs:

Vs 3: This goes out to the caboose conductor
The transit authorities, the housekeepers-90% of em minorities
The homeless musicians, the talent less beggars
The Ahamed's and papi's at the one stop bodega's

Busboy's, bartenders, yellow cab drivers
We still show em love even though they pass by us
The nurses and Nannies, who deal with little white pricks
The project janitors who work upon the night shift

The open MIC hosts and the open MIC performers
The open MIC attendants who stay just to support us
The dudes 12 to 12 hand to hand on the corner
The mta employees the backbone the aura

Of the never sleeping city, the apple, its core
The folks who go unseen, never honored or adorned
Take a look at history we're the allure of new York
Clock alarms unlock the bombs, they’re the calm before the war comes