01x03 - Respect Yourself

[bunniefuu]

Is it at once

getting much better

and still hopeless?

I don't want

to be given anything by you.

In the beginning ♪

You really loved me ♪

I was too blind ♪

I couldn't see ♪

When Dr. King was k*lled,

I thought my world had ended.

But now you've left me ♪

I couldn't produce or create

or do anything for a long time.

Oh, how I cried ♪

We had two great losses.

Otis Redding and The Bar-Kays,

and we had Martin Luther King.

Till your well runs dry ♪

It brings reality into focus.

The reality of living together

in this divided city.

What-what do I say?

You know, what can I say?

We were just

totally, totally devastated.

And not only that,

our masters,

they had been taken from us.

I miss my water ♪

We didn't know what was going

to happen with our career

or with our music.

We had been screwed

without a kiss.

You don't miss your ♪

That's what

it really amounted to.

We had nothing.

We closed down

for several days.

We went through a

a period of-of-of depression,

I guess, is the word.

The whole company.

The attitude

in the industry

was Stax is dead. It's over.

I mean, how could you think

of it any other way?

Those in New York,

they look down.

They think we're dumb bunnies,

if you will,

and they tried to keep us

"in our place."

I didn't accept that though.

I couldn't.

And I got to thinking,

well, wait a minute.

I came to Stax Records

because of that sound

that comes out of Stax.

And it was that sound

that's behind our top artists,

Sam and Dave, Carla Thomas,

Rufus Thomas,

William Bell, Eddie Floyd,

Otis Redding.

This is

my lover's prayer ♪

I realized we no longer

have our catalog

but we still had our people.

I knew what Stax really was.

It was a product of creative

and rare people,

and great, authentic music art.

We weren't

with Atlantic anymore,

but we can rebuild Stax.

I started talking

to Jim and Estelle

about becoming an independent

recorded music business.

We didn't think

we could handle it,

independently.

Even though we had made

a lot of money,

it takes a lot of money

to be independent.

You step out there alone.

Risky business.

Jim said, "Well,

find somebody

to make a deal with us."

I got with a friend of mine

named Clarence Avant.

Clarence was a major broker

in the recorded music industry.

I convinced him

that there was a future here.

Then I said, "Clarence,

I need a deal."

He said, "I think maybe

we can get something done

at Gulf+Western."

Estelle, myself, and Al thought

Gulf+Western

would give us distribution

and the visibility

that we needed.

So we went to New York.

Clarence

made the appointment

with the Chairman of the Board

of Gulf+Western,

Charlie Bluhdorn.

Clarence explained what had

happened with us,

and told him what we needed was

an opportunity and a chance.

Charlie Bluhdorn was saying,

"I don't know.

It seems as though

the Stax period

is over in the marketplace."

And Clarence Avant

got up and said,

"Charlie Bluhdorn,

I wouldn't bring this to you

unless it meant money to you,

and I know you wanna

make money."

He was screaming.

He sold it.

He literally sold it.

And Bluhdorn said,

"Okay, Clarence."

So we made the deal.

Gulf+Western gave us

the money that we needed,

but now we needed

to find something

that we can release

in this marketplace.

Al came to me and said,

"I want you to go

to the tape library,

find something good."

Atlantic didn't own anything

that hadn't been released.

We could take that music

and work with that.

And we came up with a track

of Booker T. & the M.G.'s,

but it needed some work.

I said, "Well, this song sounds

kind of jumpy, islandy.

Why don't we put

a marimba on it?"

I took the marimba and just

played this melody on it,

played through the whole song.

So we put it down, mixed it,

took it to Al Bell,

said, "Here's your song."

I said, "Oh, that limbo

is happening in New York,

Philadelphia, Boston.

And this has that limbo feel

on it with this marimba."

I said, "We're gonna call it

'Soul Limbo.'"

We released it

in the marketplace

and that record took off.

"Soul Limbo" gave me

a bit more confidence

but it was just one song.

We needed a lot more.

So I sat down with a legal pad,

and I started writing the names

of all of the artists.

Booker T. & the M.G.'s,

Albert King, Carla Thomas,

Rufus Thomas.

I started creating concepts

like "boy meets girl."

That's where I could take

all of our male artists

and combine them

with our female artists,

and that would give me

another album.

Then I thought about,

okay, guitars only.

That will make noise

in the marketplace.

And I kept coming up

with albums like that.

Al called a meeting.

He said, "We need to build back

the Stax catalog

and then flood the market

with product.

Let's work hard

to make it happen quickly."

He wanted all of this product,

more product out of one company

than all of the companies

producing rhythm and blues

in the United States

collectively.

The soul expl*si*n.

Al Bell didn't

share all the particulars.

He just generated

the excitement.

He was a master

at generating enthusiasm.

And even though there was

division in my band,

everybody just went to work

like crazy.

"We're doing this."

Hold on. Take two.

One, two

We had "no time to lose."

Al Bell was the drum major.

We were all in.

We went

to the studio around the clock

in a very short period of time.

I'm talking about

three months.

When I came to

Stax, it was starting all over.

But personally, I couldn't have

been at a better place

at a better time.

I started

as a trainee engineer.

It was just an unbelievable

opportunity.

'Course I was thrown

in the fire.

As a guitarist,

they needed songs,

and I was able

to start songwriting.

It was sink or swim.

I was a writer,

and being the only female

was not an easy task.

You know, we're talking about

the sexist '60s here.

Some guys didn't feel like women

could do what they could do,

'cause this is

an all-male environment.

So Al Bell gave me

this great big opportunity.

Good idea. Take one.

We went on a 24-hour,

seven-day-a-week

production basis.

Instead of

four or five songs,

I'm working on four

or five albums

with 10 to 12 songs

on each one of them.

It was like

a nine-to-nine situation.

I'd go home to take a shower

and that'd be about it.

It was just more

than you could handle.

I mean, it was just

wearing us out.

Steve Cropper said, "Al, you're

working the musicians to death."

I said, "No, I'm not, Steven.

I'm working them to life.

We gotta get this done

if we're gonna survive

out here in this music business.

I'm talking about

working them to life."

I like me on a minor third,

and you men with the seventh.

Two, three

Al Bell approached me

and said, "I gotta produce

a lot of albums."

I said, "Can I do an album too?"

He said, "Sure!"

I said, "However I want to?"

"Yes! You got carte blanche."

It was a lot in me

wanted to break out.

I was a songwriter,

I was a producer, an arranger.

But I had aspirations

of being a singer.

I was like a sponge.

I had soaked up a lot

of different influences.

Blues, jazz, pop, classical.

But at that time at Stax,

I didn't have a chance

to express it.

-Rolling. Number one.

Every day around lunchtime,

Isaac would come down the hall.

We were all going to lunch.

And he had a tape up there

that, uh,

he would get you to put on,

and they were these old ballads,

like, uh,

"

for Sentimental Reasons."

You know, it was

Boy, and it was taking

our lunch time.

I'll just take

my time on this thing now.

One, two

And he had this creamy voice

that just

Ohh, yeah ♪

He was honing his craft.

Mm-hm ♪

He'd sing those songs.

He was getting

the voice thing together.

One, two, three, four.

Isaac was

looking for a different sound.

After the plane crash,

the people at Stax asked us,

"What do y'all want to do about

continuing The Bar-Kays?"

I'm looking to my left

and I don't see no Jimmie King.

I'm looking to my right

and I don't see

no Phalon Jones,

my best friend.

Only two people left.

Just myself and Ben Cauley,

the one survivor.

It was an eerie feeling.

But I said,

"We got to carry on."

At 18 years old, I debuted

a new Bar-Kays band.

When I became a member

of the Bar-Kays

as a drummer,

there was Harvey Henderson

on saxophone,

Ben Cauley, James Alexander,

and Michael Toles.

And they got another white kid

to play organ,

Ronnie Gorden.

I saw a great drive

to make a monument

to that tragedy.

We didn't really know

what we was doing,

but what attracted

Isaac to us

was the fearlessness.

He would sit at the piano,

and he'd work

all the different parts out.

He was creative enough

and open enough

to just let you go.

If your idea was something

nice, he'd go along with it.

That gave me a lot of freedom.

Now tell me, what I say ♪

He knew

he wanted to do

something different

from the ordinary,

so all the stuff we did,

it was a lot of trial and error.

Once we locked into a groove

he would say,

"That's it, let's record it."

It was just, like,

an amazing way to create music.

I was a background

vocalist in Detroit.

I sang with Aretha Franklin,

George Clinton,

so many Motown artists.

1969, some songs

from Isaac Hayes came up.

One song was "Walk On By."

Dionne Warwick

had recorded this song first.

If you see me

walking down the street ♪

And I start to cry

each time we meet ♪

Walk on by ♪

Foolish pride ♪

I listened to it at home.

I was like, sh**t, I'm gonna

have to turn myself

into a music note.

You gave me ♪

I didn't ask you for it ♪

But you gave me ♪

When you said goodbye ♪

I'm like, damn.

So I smoke me a joint.

Turned me right into

a music note.

I called my sister Diane Davis,

and Rose Edwards.

That was the first time

we heard it.

Oh, I loved it.

Oh, my gosh.

Isaac's music

was almost symphonic.

Diane, Rose, and I

singing together,

we could just sound

like one person.

We had one hell of a blend.

All that I have left,

so let me hide ♪

The tears and the sadness ♪

You gave me ♪

When you said good ♪

Oh, when you said good ♪

Bye ♪

Walk on ♪

Isaac was very pleased.

Walk on by ♪

That's it.

That's perfect. Beautiful.

We had those musicians

in there every day,

hour after hour after hour,

and we created 28 albums.

The idea

was simply to establish

massive presence

in the marketplace.

But a lot of people

thought this was craziness.

The cost of manufacturing

that number of records.

But beyond the cost,

how do you promote 28 albums?

When we were working

with Atlantic,

I would always attend

sales meetings

when they would bring in

all of the distributors.

And I marveled at how

Jerry Wexler would stand up

behind a stereo player

and play songs from all

of Atlantic's new releases.

He would inspire

those distributors.

Afterwards,

Jerry Wexler would talk about,

"Ah, I just raised a million

and a half dollars."

I said, "I'm gonna

do the same thing.

But I'm gonna do it

in Memphis."

The rest of the show,

continuing the rest of

the Stax Soul expl*si*n.

I brought media to Memphis.

We had Record World

and Billboard,

Rolling Stone.

We needed a new label.

So I got the graphic design

person at Paramount Pictures,

and he said "Al,

what is Stax really?"

I said, "It's about good music.

It's about making people

feel good.

That's what Stax--"

He said, "I got it."

Next thing I knew,

he'd come

with that finger snap.

Bam! Stax.

My mind was on one thing:

causing these distributors

to come in here, feel good,

and take this pen,

and write down that order.

That was the only thing

on my mind.

Thank you!

Thank you so very much.

For most people

in the music industry,

this is people in

a backwaters town like Memphis

who have no idea

what they're doing.

People thought,

"This is not going to work."

And you're swingin'

with the Queen

on this beautiful

Monday morning!

Ahh, oh, hear me now ♪

All you fellas

gather 'round me ♪

And let me give you

some good advice ♪

What I'm gonna

gonna ask you now ♪

You'd better think about it

twice ♪

While you're lyin'

cheating on your woman ♪

There is something

you never even thought of ♪

Now tell me, who's

making love to your old lady ♪

While you were out

making love ♪

Hear me now ♪

Now, who's making love

to your old lady ♪

While you were out

making love ♪

I wrote "Who's Making Love."

A song about reaping

what you sow.

When it came out,

women were buying this song

off the rack

like it was golden.

Thinking that a woman ♪

They wanted to go home

and play this for that fella

that was going out cheating,

you know what I mean?

Fellas, let me ask you

somethin' ♪

You better think about this

'cause this could be you.

Never even dreamed of ♪

Now tell me

who's making love ♪

-To your old lady ♪

While you were out

making love ♪

I've had so many men

who would say,

"Woman, you had me

going back home,

turning around so many times."

He'd say, "Every time I would

hear this song on the radio,

I want to go home

and check on my wife."

I'm not trying

to run your life ♪

'Cause it's up to you ♪

Oh, you ♪

Oh, oh, you, you, and you ♪

It just shot up the charts.

I ask this question,

I used to be ♪

Within six weeks,

it had sold its first million.

My old lady ♪

While I was out making love ♪

"Who's Making Love"

was the biggest selling

Stax single

up to that date.

It sold two million copies

before all was said and done.

You're listening to WLIB FM.

Here's another two

for the price of one.

-Isaac Hayes.

I was with some friends

when I heard Hot Buttered Soul

on the radio.

I had completely forgot

about the recording.

Radio's still playing

three-minute singles.

Outta nowhere, they're playing

this amazingly long song

of Isaac's on the radio.

If you see me

walking down the street ♪

And I start to cry ♪

Each time we meet ♪

Then walk on by ♪

Walk on by ♪

You know,

I would go out on stage,

and I was sorta nervous.

"Oh, God."

So I put the shades on

Just let me hide

the tears and the sadness ♪

And it became

like a security blanket.

You put the hurt on me,

you socked it to me, mama ♪

When you said goodbye ♪

People said I had started

a different trend,

big large orchestrations,

big sound.

Oh, mama ♪

All that mattered

was that I had

the opportunity

to express myself.

Walk ♪

Hot Buttered Soul exploded.

Top of the charts

on the R&B market,

adult contemporary,

easy listening,

jazz, and pop.

Said I'm beggin' you,

I'm beggin you to walk on by ♪

Gutted as they were,

demoralized as they were,

they rebuilt this company

and made it a bigger company

than it ever was before.

Smoke ain't makin' me cry,

no, no, no ♪

It's the hurt

you put on me, yeah ♪

We were an old business,

and yet we were a new business.

Things changed,

and they were changing

very fast.

Success forced us

to have accountants,

lawyers, more secretaries,

more offices,

more promotion guys.

We were growing,

and it was not

that same warm family,

every time

you go to the studio

you sit around and everybody

just having a good time.

Al Bell's decisions to expand

have great consequences

as to record sales,

but terrible consequences

in terms of morale.

It got too big.

It got too big,

and I had not as much voice

as I would liked to have.

The company

became corporate.

Mass production,

assembly-line-type feeling.

That whole concept

was so foreign to me,

I just never accepted it.

It was a pain that added

to other pain for me.

I didn't wanna leave.

I had to leave.

I had been Jim's liaison

between him and the musicians.

One, two, three.

And all of a sudden one day,

they got everybody else

making decisions.

He felt that he was

kind of cast aside.

Which is not the case.

Very difficult

for me to leave Stax.

But I knew I had to go.

I had to get rid

of my record shop.

They wanted the space

for their studios,

and, uh

I don't know. I

I don't think they wanted me

around anyway.

My sister Estelle,

she and Al had their problems,

and she didn't feel like she had

enough, you know, input.

Al Bell,

there's just so many things

that he disagreed on.

She'd say,

"We need this kind of music.

We don't need any more

of that kind of music.

We're not controlling our thing

and what our thing

should be about."

I think that may have

been the case with Mrs. Axton.

Couldn't sit and do nothing.

I went back in the office.

I even went in the mail room.

But I decided, well, I'll never

have any influence

in the future.

Had to try

to keep peace, you know.

In the end, I made the decision

to ask

that my sister step down.

Al became vice president

of the company,

and he became

an equal shareholder.

Never, in her whole life,

have I ever seen her

so emotionally broken.

It broke her heart.

It was difficult

for the Stax family.

She provided the maternal

support for the organization

from the beginning.

And then she just

boxed up her things

and walked out the door.

When these people

left the company,

there were discomforts

and feelings

amongst the creative people.

And I must tell you,

I don't mean it in a rude,

cold, or insensitive manner,

but we had to continue pursuing

our business objectives.

I had to look forward.

Nation time, it's nation time.

Get up, Diana Ross.

Get up, Jimmie Brown.

It's nation time, build it.

Get up, muffet dragger.

Get up, Rastus, for real.

It's nation time!

It's nation time! ♪

Get up, come along,

come on ♪

And get up

and get down tonight ♪

The world was changing.

And get down, get up ♪

The problem now

is fundamentally economic.

The solution

is fundamentally economic.

The goal

is fundamentally economic.

There was a growing

sense of Black awareness.

Stax wanted to address

what was happening nationally.

We're one of the few completely

Black-oriented companies

in America today.

Eighty-five to 90%

of our artists are Black.

Our personnel, the same way.

We're researching Black

because that's where

our product is directed.

And we're supported Black.

Remember,

we're talking about

Black consciousness.

We got to build and keep

that dollar in the community.

Do you understand?

We needed someone

to help paint the picture,

to put the package together.

I met a guy in advertising,

Mr. Larry Shaw.

Dad was, at the time,

with an ad agency in Chicago.

His ads were speaking

to Black people.

Speaking in our language.

Hey, aren't you

Frederick Douglass?

Are you gonna

go out into the world

with your hair

looking like that?

Well, Mr. Douglass, you know,

times have changed.

We wear the natural now.

You call that a natural?

That's a mess.

It was uplifting

and culturally relevant.

Man, ain't nobody

gonna believe this!

Very unapologetic.

"This is who we are."

It was just a manifestation

of being Black in America.

He understood

all of the things

that we faced as a people,

and things that could be done

to improve our conditions.

I needed him.

Larry came to Stax Records.

He was ready for us,

and we were ready for him.

We were not apologizing

for who we were.

You could see it in the fabric

of everything

we were doing at Stax.

I know a place ♪

Uh ♪

Ain't nobody cryin' ♪

Ain't nobody worried ♪

No ♪

Ain't no smilin' faces ♪

Mm-mm, no, no ♪

Lyin' to the races ♪

Help me, now ♪

I'll take you there ♪

When I showed up

at Lincoln University,

a Black college

in Pennsylvania,

my classmates acted like

I had just come off

the Underground Railroad.

They'd go,

"Where you from, brother?"

I said "Memphis."

They'd go, "Tennessee?"

It was only basically

three things

that they knew about Memphis:

Dr. King's assassination,

Elvis,

and they knew about Stax.

You would bring your girlfriend

over to the dorm room,

and the universal signal

for your roommate

that work was going on

inside the room

was Isaac on the stereo.

If you had the misfortune

of hearing Isaac

coming up under the door,

find somewhere else to sleep.

By my junior year,

you couldn't go

in a dorm room,

not one

if they had anything

on the wall, it was Isaac.

When Isaac Hayes

walked on the stage,

just set 'em on fire.

People went crazy.

I grew up really poor.

And my grandparents raised me.

I can remember segregation

and sitting

in the back of the bus,

sitting in the crow's nest

in the movie.

Colored and white fountains.

I had to live with that.

Didn't like it.

I started wearing these chains.

What once represented bondage

and captivity to a Black man,

it represents strength.

I wore it with pride.

And it meant something

to Black people.

Ladies and gentlemen

The name, Black Moses,

just caught on like wildfire.

Look at that.

-Look at that.

Is this the start of

a Black Moses movement or what?

It thrust me out

in the national spotlight.

There was a meeting at MGM

and they were talking about,

why not aim a movie to

the Black consumer market

with a Black director,

leading actor,

editor, a Black composer,

and my name was brought up.

Isaac

and Gordon Parks and Al Bell

came in the studio to introduce

the band to the project.

We watched the opening footage

of Shaft

on this little Moviola machine.

"All right,

all y'all gather around me."

So all our heads were pushed

to look at that little screen.

Now the sequence we saw

this morning, Times Square,

panned in off the skyscrapers

along 42nd Street,

over the marquees.

And when Shaft pops up

out of that subway,

that's when this

should really come on.

When Isaac said, "Hey man, we're

gonna start playing right here."

He said, "Clarence," he said,

"Watch Roundtree's feet."

He said, "I want you to give me

some 16ths to that tempo."

So I'd start watching, and I

"Shaft," I mean,

it just was amazing.

That's all I can say.

-Yeah, that's what I wanted.

And the 16ths

was perfect

for what was needed there.

That was great

for that Shaft walk.

-Uh-huh.

-Isaac Hayes, genius.

Shaft.

Hotter than Bond,

cooler than Bullitt.

Rated R.

If you want to see Shaft,

ask your momma.

We advertised

on Black radio,

on Top 40 radio,

on mainstream radio,

in the newspapers,

and we blew up

in the marketplace,

-I gotta tell you.

-Shaft!

After we had won a Grammy,

I wanted to ensure

that Isaac got the creative

recognition that he deserved.

I said, "What we gotta do is,

we gotta figure out a way

to ensure that Isaac Hayes

gets an Oscar nomination."

I mean, that's the ultimate.

But my friend Quincy Jones

told me,

"Al, you're gonna have

a problem

because those guys

that make those nominations, Al,

they're long-haired white guys.

I don't know how

you're gonna do it,

but you're gonna have

to do something

to cause those guys

that make the decisions

to even consider 'Shaft.'"

Shaft is a bad mother

Shut yo' mouth.

I said,

"Let's figure out

what we have to do to appeal

to white people."

I took it on as a challenge.

The first thing we did

was determine the names

of all those people that

would be making that decision

and check what radio stations

did they listen to.

We went in and bought time

on all of those radio stations,

heavy rotation.

And then we got Sammy Davis Jr.

to record "Shaft."

Yeah, he's bad, bad, bad,

bad, bad, bad, bad ♪

Bad, bad, bad, bad,

bad, bad, bad ♪

Bad, bad, bad, bad,

bad, bad, bad ♪

So we had people talking

about it in the industry.

But I kept hearing, "It's Black,

it's Black, it's Black."

So we needed to do

something unique

to try to put

a white perspective on "Shaft."

We found out Pasadena

City College marching band

plays on the Rose Bowl.

So all of a sudden now,

"Shaft" isn't so Black.

And it worked.

So we get a nomination.

Fabulous.

And I ask for Isaac Hayes

to perform on Oscar Awards.

And they said, "No, we don't

we don't have

any available time."

I said, "Listen, if we can't

work out an arrangement

to get Isaac Hayes

on there live, performing,

I'm gonna come and go downstairs

in front of your building,

call a press conference,

and tell these people

in the press

that y'all are r*cist."

They said, "Al, you wouldn't

do that, would you?"

I said, uh, "Yeah, I'll do that

unless we can work out some

kind of understanding

on getting Isaac Hayes."

"Al, we don't have the budget."

I said,

"We'll pay for everything

that has to be paid for."

"If you'll pay for it, Al,

we'll do it."

Live,

the 44th Annual

Academy Awards presentation.

Isaac came down,

playing his organ

with smoke coming up

all around him.

Who's the Black

private d*ck ♪

That's a sex machine

to all the chicks? ♪

-Shaft! ♪

-You're damn right ♪

And the winner is

Isaac Hayes,

"Theme From Shaft."

Who is the man

that would risk his neck ♪

For his brother man? ♪

Shaft! ♪

Can you dig it? ♪

I would like to thank

the Academy.

And I would like to thank

the Stax organization

for encouraging me

to score a motion picture.

Most of all,

I would like to thank a lady

who's here with me tonight

because years ago,

her path and her prayers

kept my feet

on the path of righteousness,

and that's my grandmother,

and

this is a thrill for me.

And also, a few days

is her 80th birthday, and I

this is her present from me.

-Thank you.

Isaac is the first

Black songwriter

to ever win an Academy Award,

and it takes him

to a level of superstardom

that probably no other Black

artist had at that moment.

I told Isaac, "I'm gonna

advertise in the newspapers,

I'm gonna advertise

on radio and television

that Isaac Hayes is coming

to give the Oscar

back to the people."

Can you imagine the impact

and effect it had?

Oh my goodness,

you should see the kids

when they would

see Isaac pull up.

Oh man, they would go

come running.

They would be at the fence

looking at the car.

And nobody had ever seen

anything like it before.

When I moved to Memphis

and was writing my book,

I met a gentleman

who worked as a fireman.

He told me how, as a kid,

his mom would walk him to school

and they would go by Stax

every day.

His mother made a point of it,

that this was who you could be.

These were Black people,

Black people

from our neighborhood.

This was success.

Again, I thank

the city of Memphis,

and I'm proud to represent

the city of Memphis,

Black and white.

And we should take it

upon ourselves

to be the model city

which we say we are.

If there be more,

I shall go out

and try to spread the goodwill

and the good word

through the universal language

of music.

-Yeah ♪

Respect yourself ♪

Mm-mm, yeah ♪

Respect yourself ♪

Yeah, respect yourself ♪

You, you, you, you

respect yourself ♪

Di-di-di-di ♪

If you don't

respect yourself ♪

Ain't nobody gonna

give a good cahoot ♪

-Na-na-na-na-na-na ♪

-Respect yourself ♪

Na-na-na-na-na ♪

Respect yourself ♪

Di-di-di-di ♪

Respect yourself ♪

-Na-na-na-na-na ♪

-You, respect yourself ♪

Di-di-di-di ♪

Respect yourself ♪

Na-na-na-na-na ♪

Respect yourself ♪

Di-di-di-di ♪

Respect yourself ♪

-Na-na-na-na-na ♪

-I mean, respect yourself ♪