Iceberg Slim - Broadway Sam
01
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Broadway Sam, the “Big Mackman”
You ought to know the name
I almost cried the day he died
It was a dirty shame
He liked to play on old Broadway
That's how he got his name
He lived off the hicks from out in the sticks
He was a master of the long shoe game
He was always pressed
Nothing but the best
Vines and kicks he had
A $30 lid and gloves of kid
Man, his threads were bad
White on whites and black skin tights
And a belt of pure crocodile
When he stepped out, all the hoеs would shout
But Sam? Why? He just smiled
He was riding high. His limit was thе sky
He had all kinds of dough
But he became a junkie, a low-down flunky, when he pulled a Dopefiend hoe
Her name was Mabel, and she was able
To turn eight kinds of tricks
You’d flip your lid over that kid if you were a hick from the sticks
She was the best in the East and the West
Once, a long time ago, but an armful of junk
Will take all the spunk out of the very best hoe
She said, hey baby
I don't mean maybe
Give this stuff a try
So he blew his fame
He lost the game
He went and got himself high
He was king of them all
Till he took that fall
Till he made that fatal slip
He thought he was boss
When he shot that horse
He thought he was being hip
Two months it took
Til' he got hooked on the pleasure of the kings
When he got caught with his money lost
He had to hock his things
He pawned his clothes
He lost his homes
He really did come down
The king of them all
Had started his fall
The king had lost his crown
His clothes were tattered
But that didn’t matter, not to Sam at least
As long as Mabel, his hoe, was able to satisfy his beast
When she went to jail, Sam had no bail to cut old Mabel loose
It was there, and then, the moment when Sam just cooked his goose
Without his hoe to bring him dough, Sam started to get sick
He got so sick, he went down on a mick
Big Sam had turned a trick
Yes, Broadway Sam, the “Big Mackman”, had really fallen down
He was Sam the fag, in or out of drag, the funkiest junkie in town
They found him dead, dogshit under his head, on an alley floor
Poor faggot Sam, who once was a man
Had his asshole tore
Just what went down in that part of town, on that terrible night
No one knows, but some suppose, that he just lost a fight
But I don't buy that
I know where it's at
He died of an overdose
And every night when the moon is bright
You can see his ghost
On old Broadway, where he use to play
He moans his way around
Looking for Mabel, that hoe that was able
The bitch that brought him down
Yes, I knew him
And the broad that slew him
He played the game
And he searched for fame
But a faggot he died in shame
You ought to know the name
I almost cried the day he died
It was a dirty shame
He liked to play on old Broadway
That's how he got his name
He lived off the hicks from out in the sticks
He was a master of the long shoe game
He was always pressed
Nothing but the best
Vines and kicks he had
A $30 lid and gloves of kid
Man, his threads were bad
White on whites and black skin tights
And a belt of pure crocodile
When he stepped out, all the hoеs would shout
But Sam? Why? He just smiled
He was riding high. His limit was thе sky
He had all kinds of dough
But he became a junkie, a low-down flunky, when he pulled a Dopefiend hoe
Her name was Mabel, and she was able
To turn eight kinds of tricks
You’d flip your lid over that kid if you were a hick from the sticks
She was the best in the East and the West
Once, a long time ago, but an armful of junk
Will take all the spunk out of the very best hoe
She said, hey baby
I don't mean maybe
Give this stuff a try
So he blew his fame
He lost the game
He went and got himself high
He was king of them all
Till he took that fall
Till he made that fatal slip
He thought he was boss
When he shot that horse
He thought he was being hip
Two months it took
Til' he got hooked on the pleasure of the kings
When he got caught with his money lost
He had to hock his things
He pawned his clothes
He lost his homes
He really did come down
The king of them all
Had started his fall
The king had lost his crown
His clothes were tattered
But that didn’t matter, not to Sam at least
As long as Mabel, his hoe, was able to satisfy his beast
When she went to jail, Sam had no bail to cut old Mabel loose
It was there, and then, the moment when Sam just cooked his goose
Without his hoe to bring him dough, Sam started to get sick
He got so sick, he went down on a mick
Big Sam had turned a trick
Yes, Broadway Sam, the “Big Mackman”, had really fallen down
He was Sam the fag, in or out of drag, the funkiest junkie in town
They found him dead, dogshit under his head, on an alley floor
Poor faggot Sam, who once was a man
Had his asshole tore
Just what went down in that part of town, on that terrible night
No one knows, but some suppose, that he just lost a fight
But I don't buy that
I know where it's at
He died of an overdose
And every night when the moon is bright
You can see his ghost
On old Broadway, where he use to play
He moans his way around
Looking for Mabel, that hoe that was able
The bitch that brought him down
Yes, I knew him
And the broad that slew him
He played the game
And he searched for fame
But a faggot he died in shame
