The Thirteens (Black) lyrics

Your Momma took to shouting
Your Poppa's gone to war,
Your sister's in the streets
Your brother's in the bar.
The thirteens. Right On.

Your cousin's taking smack
Your Uncle’s in the joint,
Your buddy's in the gutter
Shooting for his point
The thirteens. Right on.

And you, you make me sorry
You out here by yourself,
I'd call you something dirty,
But there just ain't nothing left,
cept
The thirteens. Right On.