| Okay…
|
| Okay, I’m only gettin it on one side of the headphone
|
| Aight~! |
| Yeh, bring it in like…
|
| Five somethin in the mornin goin on six
|
| It’s daylight, sunrise time
|
| Time to free yo’self… free yo’soul, free yo’mind
|
| Ladies, free that ass… yeah!
|
| Coast to coast it’s the most, we don’t brag and boast
|
| We just leave 'em comatose
|
| It’s your boy Talib Kweli, yeah!
|
| Flow is tight, though I got a couple screws looses
|
| It’s cuckoo, my rep in this game is bigger than Bruce Bruce
|
| Who you? |
| Your name smaller than fine grains in couscous
|
| It’s the highest calibre, your calibre is deuce deuce
|
| SHOOT~! |
| Y’all niggaz can’t hang like a loose noose
|
| I get on stage, niggaz in my ear like a Bluetooth
|
| And that’s the triple truth Ruth, they lips is loose like
|
| they seen your lovedaddy in the bulletproof blue Coupe
|
| My rhymes is full of truth, and the business full of lies
|
| Try to look a Masai kid in his eyes for the flies
|
| and tell him how he fucked up our environment daily
|
| The only thing we know about Africa is from Nas or Belly
|
| But go off like a Hutu or Tutsi, from Rwanda or Burundi
|
| Over drums like Babatunde Olatunji
|
| Sayin nigga just to keep our teeth white, like Paul Mooney
|
| Fightin spiritual wars, like the Shi’ite or the Sunni
|
| Yo~! |
| Our music went from tap dance to the lapdance
|
| Try to get me to sell out and that’s a fat chance
|
| You see black faces in my rap pages
|
| Larry Davis, Angela Davis or Ossie Davis
|
| Yeah, welcome to the show, it’s Talib Kweli, so amazin
|
| Live from California it’s the Madlib invasion, let’s GO~!
|
| This exercise in freedom is called the «Liberation»
|
| I keep it fly by a process of elimination
|
| When it come to payin the kid, sometimes it’s hesitation
|
| 'Til I make 'em check it in like they got reservations
|
| But there ain’t no reservations about coppin this
|
| Even though it’s free for the people there ain’t no stoppin this
|
| Poppin fresh, cakin up, I’m breakin up the, monotonous flow
|
| that can’t write or plant life like a botanist grow
|
| a new crop and just roll, it up, blow it out whoa
|
| Excuse the cockiness though, I’m just showin out — know
|
| you can’t go without this, now what’chu know about that? |