You're complainin' 'cause you wanna go_
To the show tonight;
And, you complain that your business' been a little too slow_
And your money's too tight;
And, you complain about your HBO;
And, you complain about such trivial stuff.
I'll tell you something, baby, you don't know:
You ain't got it so tough!

Cause, baby, you don't know_ what it's like_ to be poor;
You've always had_ all you need_ at your door;
You only know_ what it's like_ to want more and more and more;
But, baby, you don't know_ what it's like_ to be poor.

You say your life's been a struggle_ that never ends;
It's so hard to pay for your stuff,
While you're drivin' your Mercedes Benz
With gold and diamonds in you cuff;
Past a man_ with a sign and no job,
And, you tell me, you've got problems of your own;
You say that, “People like that would just as soon rob you,”
as you reach for your cellular phone.

But, baby, you don't know_ what it's like_ to be poor;
You've always had_ all you need_ at your door;
You only know_ what it's like_ to get more and more and more;
But, baby, you don't know_ what it's like_ to be poor.

Some people just don't get a break;
Some people just don't get a heart;
Some feast in fancy homes, filling up on cake,
While hungry poor push their home around in a shopping cart.