| They come to me for the lyrical, spiritual, raw shit I spit at you
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| Original, and I see collective, not individual
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| Visual, in the mic I’m un-fuck-wit-able
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| Invincible, offical nigga who they come to
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| For the hardcore, art of war, rhymes that I got in store
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| Triple-w N’kiru Center dot org
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| For education and culture, heads is waitin' for Mos to
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| Do the album with Kweli, we do it like we suppose to
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| Nobody come close to my crew, we wild nice
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| You ain’t tight, your rhymes is like what a child writes
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| When he can’t spell, you chase crumbs and get ate like Han-sel
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| Can’t hold your mic, like your liquor, your style like an Amstel
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| Smack a nigga til my motherfuckin hands swell
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| You ain’t fly and you prolly got can-cell
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| Y’all niggas shaky like handheld, amateur camera work
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| In walking this planet of earth
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| I’m the illest emcee and a man of my word
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| When I came out, niggas didn’t understand it at first
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| I’m known to roll up my sleeves and put my hands in the dirt
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| We at war and I got a battle plan that can work
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| With the proper execution so I’m killin' 'em right
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| You get hit like a deer standin' still in the light
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| I’m spillin' it like, I ain’t never had a meal in my life
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| Feed my family with my pen, it’s so real what I write
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| We fight, fuck, get buckwild
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| Kill, chill, make love, have child
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| Freestyle, b-boy, hit the block
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| Build, destroy, get it hot
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| Yo, I make the place go apeshit (c'mon)
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| Ain’t no other way to say it, ain’t nuttin to play with
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| I’m Langston Hughes' «Dreams Deferred» seen and heard in the flesh
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| Cause so many people believe the word even when it seems absurd
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| With keen observation I peep the game
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| And got blood on his hands, I can see the stains
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| My street slang spray like shots when heat bang out
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| Niggas keep my name in they mouth, I put they flame out
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| Where I’m from, action is first and talk is second
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| I’m sharp like the blade in the logo of Rawkus Records
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| New York’s infected, niggas beefin' on the mix-tape
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| Got nickel bag niggas thinkin' they can fuck with big weight
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| Hell no, give it up, it’s enough
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| We about to live it up, with ten of us
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| We ride and you live with us
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| Pick it up, party people, you about to get in touch
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| Give it up, everybody, you about to get a rush
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| You can find Kweli in the cut, with a Cohiba lit up bout to split a Dutch
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| Get it up, everybody, you about to get in touch
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| Give it up, everybody, you about to get a rush (whooo!)
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| Yeah, yeah
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| Quality material
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| Yo, check this out
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| Yeah, you heard it
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| Kweli
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| You don’t know how to say it by now, fuck you
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| Broadcastin' live, from Brooklyn, New York City
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| Yeah, turn this shit up
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| It’s Quality music
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| You know how we use it
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| Feel the rush
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| Feel the rush |