*modified refined salt version*
Boys in topis who like getting in trouble,
Spun myself all of my favourite clothes.
I should've been sad bruh,
Who would've thoughta turn me to a sangrami,
Rather be tied up with cotton not nylon,
Make my own salt like I make my own rules.
you like my hair? gee thanks, don't have it.
You like my hair? Gee, thanks, don't have it.
Whoever said ahimsa can't solve your problems,
Must not have had enough ahimsa to solve 'em
They say, "Which salt?" I say, "Nah, I want all of 'em"
Happiness is the same price as self government.
you like my hair? gee thanks, don't have it.
You like my hair? Gee, thanks, don't have it.
Yeah, my clothes, be lookin' like salt fields,
If it ain't salt, then it's talc powder.
Khadi is my business clothes,
The way it be settin' the tone for me
I don't mean to brag, but I be like, "Put the salt in the bag, " yeah
When you see them salts, they stacked up like my spools, yeah
March, go from the ashram to the Dandi
Go to the Brits , give them sour candy!
Never mind, I got the salt
Nothing but taste when we eat,
Look at my topi, look at my khadi,
Ain't got enough money to buy their salt,
Ain't no salt taxes when I'm on the set
If I like it, then that's what I get, yeah
You like my hair? Gee, thanks, don't have it.