| Brilliance
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| Nice, nice levels
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| Thank you Mr. Taxton
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| Fix up, look sharp, yo
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| I resolve, me and mine involved
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| A lot of cats talk live, they ain’t live at all
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| Sideline check, hush when it’s time to ball
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| Said you was charged an' all, I’m surprised at y’all
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| You could have a thousand rhymes, a thousand dimes
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| The house to shine, coupes on the routes recline
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| Be on Greenwich Mean, Beech Street, or Mountain time
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| But weigh it up, duke — your pound ain’t a ounce of mine
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| You’re down for mine, ashy and ground for mine
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| Yasiin so clear, true, pronounce divine
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| Pull down the blinds, shade them out or shine
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| Everything from Bangkok to Bucktown is mine
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| Say Black Star, great things sprout the mind
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| Full moons and starry nights, new life and true light
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| Desert flames and ancient names, cinematic classic frames
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| Beautiful and fantastic things
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| Like peace, equality; |
| Allah see everything
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| Don’t call it a comeback, I was home anyway
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| Ain’t mister measure for all any time we been away
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| Travelling man I carry home with me every day
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| Bey, slim body push heavy weight
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| Fix up look sharp, elevate
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| And I don’t mean Copperfield or David Blaine
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| We on solid ground and far above the clouds, Black Star
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| The wait is over, or is it overweight
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| The game is bloated, there’s no escape
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| They sub-standard, we substantial
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| We got the great names, they got the love handles
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| We slimming down, trim the fat
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| Sit it down with all that chitter-chat
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| You talking this and that—simmer down
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| Got my name in your mouth, spit it out, son
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| The music so powerful, use it to see the parallels
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| I could make it rain but I make it plainer than Malcolm does
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| Black Star, baby powder fresher than the talcum, yup
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| People charged up, yup, we good with or without the plug
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| You doubted us, but you’re still hating — wow, I’m proud of ya!
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| Committed to your cause and it’s caused you to be a sourpuss
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| Ain’t a number that could measure your level of cowardice
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| You Power Puff, you pale in comparison, don’t get out enough
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| Turn up the motherfuckers, the speakers ain’t nearly loud enough
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| Black Star rocking it, Chaka would be proud of us
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| You had enough, callous as shallow and narrow-mindedness
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| Preparing for the battle, the shadows is where you finding us
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| You tryna bust — you dead, you synthetic as a designer drug
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| The populace is ignorant, thank you for reminding us
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| Separate myself from these rappers who hustle backwards
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| Yup, they got zero property, like the laws of algebra
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| Fix up, look sharp
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| Black Star, good God
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| And when the sky look dark
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| Shine a light, look ahead, look up
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| Fix up, look sharp
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| Black Star, good God
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| And when the sky look dark
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| Shine a light, look ahead, look up
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| Malcolm X and Marley Marl, the word of God, the works of art
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| Portraits of the brain and other unexplained phenomenon
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| Shut down Babylon Smash all automaton
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| Feel the beat, Got 'em feeling geeked like it’s Comic-Con
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| Far from the hardy-har, more like a Tomahawk
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| Rocket launch, Ali right cross knock they choppers off
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| Kweli and Mr. Bey, Fresh not from concentrate
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| Looking very sharp today, Thank you brother, Danke Schoen
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| Craft working more than German engineering
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| And all the frequency that don’t adhere to interference
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| Flashes of the spirit, Seekers of the clearing
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| They say that the tongue is the mirror of the heart so mirror mirror
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| Look, in that window is a freedom fighter’s grandson
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| Fixed up looking sharp, automatic handgun
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| Look, parade, caravan, diplomat, degenerate
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| Messiah Pariah The leader of the syndicate
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| Peace treaty written in loophole penmanship
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| Same rows, two sides, Palaces and tenements
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| Dispossessed native tongue noble open the lonely heart
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| Peel apart, come together, come together, peel apart
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| Come together
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| Fix up, look sharp
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| Black Star, good God
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| And when the sky look dark
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| Shine a light, look ahead, look up
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| Fix up, look sharp
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| Black Star, good God
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| And when the sky look dark
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| Shine a light, look ahead, look up |