This is the sad tale of Buckwheat Foster
Named so for his hair,
The length of which many disapproved,
Although he did not care.
As a child in school he kept
For he was very bright.
But he couldn't curtail his curiosity
For things that went on
With much hard work and
A doctor, Buckwheat was made
At a time when very few physicians
Appeared in his complexion or shade
But as he excelled in scholarly way
His morals fell quite low,
So Buckwheat saved lives during the day
And at night paid whores and sniffed blow.
One whore that he especially liked
She got in his ear--
"I hate my pimp," she cried one night,
"Please take me out of here."
So Buckwheat took the whore home
Which angered the pimp to no end
And if you know anything about pimps,
You should know this one wanted revenge.
Now Buckwheat had saved people before
But now didn't know what to do
'Cause whenever you save someone from an illness
The ilness doesn't come after you.
So the pimp caught Buckwheat in a dark alley,
And commenced to beating his ass
Until Buckwheat accidentally killed the pimp
With a piece of broken glass.
For a few days after, Buckwheat experienced
A phenomenon known as 'street cred'.
But the pimp had friends and
A few nights later, Dr. Buckwheat Foster was dead.
The people from the hospital were so surprised
But the whores and street hoods were not,
Cause they knew that Buckwheat’s habits and
Demeanor would get him what he got.
You can only serve one master---
That's what the church folk say,
You can't smoke drugs and screw around every night
And just pretend it's okay, the next day.
Straight and narrow,
Or dark and grimy
We all have to choose in the end--
Cause tryin' to be too much of both
Is a game you just can't win.