Auburn Avenue: The Richest Street

Lyrics

They didn't give us a street.
So we built one.
Brick by brick.
Promise by promise.

I remember the stories.
Nineteen-oh-six.
The smell of smoke hanging over the city.
The lesson learned in ash and fear.
That we had to build our own world.
Right here.
A place to bank, to buy, to be.
Where the doors were ours.
And the welcome was real.
This wasn't just pavement.
This was a fortress made of pride.

And John Dobbs, he stood right here, didn't he?
Looked up and down your length.
And he gave you the name.
Spoke it like a prayer, like a fact.
Auburn Avenue...
The richest Negro street in the world.
Not just in dollars.
But in spirit. In bone.

Alonzo Herndon, with his razors and his vision.
From a barbershop chair to that palace of stone.
Atlanta Life.
A promise kept in a policy book.
And up in the Prince Hall Masonic Temple...
In a freight elevator shaft, a voice.
WERD radio. Our voice.
Jesse Blayton sending it out over the wires,
over the rooftops,
into the kitchens.
A sound that was all our own.

And John Dobbs, he stood right here.
Looked up and down your length.
And he gave you the name.
Spoke it like a prayer, like a fact.
Auburn Avenue...
The richest Negro street in the world.
Not just in dollars.
But in spirit. In bone.

Rich was the sound spilling from the Royal Peacock at midnight.
Rich was the ink on the Atlanta Daily World.
Rich was the certainty of a loan from our own bank.
The safety in walking your blocks after dark.
The feeling of being seen.
Not as a problem.
But as a citizen.
As a founder.

They didn't give us a street.
They drew a line.
And on our side of it...
we built a world.
Your pavement still holds the sound.
The richest street.