| Moving at the speed of a solution
|
| Bleeding in the streets as we’re breathing the pollution
|
| They’re saying that we need a revolution
|
| But their passion is reduced to all-caps on a computer
|
| Hey, every sixteen I make a sick scene
|
| Blood splattered all on you shirt like a Miskeen
|
| Y’all niggas trippin' like mescaline and mixed greens
|
| My flow cleaner than the Sistine, pristine
|
| You going green like Al Gore with 'em
|
| I make algorithms that got Malcolm in 'em
|
| God’s favorite, I’m sick as a doctor’s patient
|
| We live in a cold world, my job is to rock nations
|
| My occupation? |
| Elation, a celebration of rebels
|
| Raise the levels and the decibels flagrant
|
| It’s too amazing how we be blazing, son
|
| Our flowers is the loudest, they crowd around us
|
| But cower in the shadows of the towers, boy
|
| Take a tour with it, bake the raw
|
| Where the beats so savage
|
| That it’s knuckles gon' scrape the floor
|
| Make a call, all the rocket ships taking off
|
| Jah, Wu, gun music playin' when we facing off
|
| Yo, I plaster the nation, causing evacuation
|
| My manifestation got 'em patient from how I keeps it amazing
|
| See, I’m the reason niggas need some training
|
| While I’m inflicting the pain and making it suitable for any occasion
|
| I’m very engaging soon as I’m awaken
|
| Quickly back you up and bag your bitch
|
| She’s reminding me of Sanaa Lathan
|
| Rely on the hating while I’m smiling and waiting
|
| That’s when I embrace 'em
|
| If you try to front, you’ll be highly mistaken
|
| The mightiest making of a classic, alrighty, I’ll face it
|
| My psyche is ancient and I’m hiring, so try me, I’m patient
|
| Sorry, I’m lying, face it, I’m back for the taking
|
| I’m urgently giving niggas the courtesy of smashing their face in
|
| (Damn, can you cut his mic off?)
|
| See how we got 'em buggin'
|
| Cause they can’t believe what we have in the making
|
| Shit so historic, got me goin' for it while I bang the nation
|
| And do niggas greasier than a slab of bacon
|
| Bitch, you still cooking this pork in this house?
|
| Stop cooking that damn pork in this house
|
| The hell going on in here?
|
| Take a tour with it, bake the raw
|
| Where the beats so savage
|
| That it’s knuckles gon' scrape the floor
|
| Make a call, all the rocket ships taking off
|
| Jah, Wu, gun music playin' when we facing off
|
| These rap niggas is bitches, nothing but suckers to me
|
| Sacrifice myself for the music and let them suffer through me
|
| Your weak product is nothing to me
|
| I only feel effects when I fuck with Louis
|
| Yep, I get buck in the studio like I’m Evil Dee
|
| Pulling strings like the Muppet movie
|
| Shining my light like Mos calling his mother Umi
|
| Who’s the hottest regardless of who’s flaming?
|
| We ain’t talkin' 'bout the best until you mention my name
|
| Who’re you kidding? |
| The truest spitting
|
| I’ll break you like a mirror so it’s clearer
|
| That we don’t believe in superstition
|
| These new additions need supervision
|
| Thinking that they can spit it in the booth like me
|
| What are you stupid? |
| Listen
|
| I’ve been official, it’s been official, I’m too consistent
|
| I make a claim cause I’m too official for euphemisms
|
| Staying in the cut like a new incision
|
| I’ll put you on your ass like True Religion
|
| So give it up for the truest living
|
| Take a tour with it, bake the raw
|
| Where the beats so savage
|
| That it’s knuckles gon' scrape the floor
|
| Make a call, all the rocket ships taking off
|
| Jah, Wu, gun music playin' when we facing off |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Rocket Ships, artist - Talib Kweli. Album song Prisoner of Conscious, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп