You may write me down in history with your bitter twisted lies,
you may trod me down in the very dirt.
And still like the dust, I'll rise.
Does my happiness upset you?
Why are you best with gloom cause I laugh,
like I've got an oil well pumpin' in my living room?

So you may shoot me with your words,
you may cut me with your eyes,
and I'll rise - I'll rise - I'll rise - rise - rise.
Out of the shacks of history's shame,
up from a past rooted in pain,
and I'll rise - I'll rise - I'll rise - rise - rise.