You may write me down in history 
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt 
But still, like dust, I'll rise. 
Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
Because I walk like I've got oil wells 
Pumping in my living room. 
lust like moons and like suns, 
With the certainty of tides, 
Just like hopes springing high, 
Still I'll rise. 
Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops, 
Weakened by my soulful cries. 
Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don't you take it awful hard 
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines 
Diggin' in my own backyard. 
You may shoot me with your words, 
You may cut me with your eyes. 
You may kill me with your hatefullness, 
But still, like air, I'll rise . . . 
Out of the huts of history's shame I rise. 
Up from a past that's rooted in pain I rise . . 
Leaving behind night of terror and fear 
I rise 
Into a daybreak that's wondrously dear 
I rise. 
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave 
I am the dream and the hope of the slave. 
I rise. 
I rise. 
I rise.