| Move, if you got the nerve
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| Lash out for your just desserts
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| It’s not just the worth
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| Some of y’all heads up in the clouds
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| I’ma bring y’all back to earth
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| It’s black back to birth
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| Bullshit y’all talkin''bout
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| Out ya mouth, I’m not concerned
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| Cause y’all got the nerve
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| It’s y’all turn like Detroit red
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| When he said he had an ultra perm
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| The long walk to burn your bare heels
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| So they worn your boots
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| The game camouflage like army suits
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| But I can see it more clear cause I came with the coup in here
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| Ring the alarm and form the troops
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| Send 'em out into the world, go to war in a fluke
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| Eye to eye with the enemy you sworn to shoot
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| Now comin’at ya neck sick ya hand, something wrong with me Motherfucker somethin’s wrong with you
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| When you cheat just way to smart to question
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| The enemy the brothers of a dark complexion
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| The governments of the world is shark infested
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| They heavy on weaponry like Charelton Heston
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| Man yeah it gets low here uh, real low
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| Know what I’m talkin''bout?
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| I ain’t rockin’with you, so what what you goin do? |
| (it's my favorite mutiny)
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| I ain’t rockin’with you, you’re logic does not compute (it's my favorite mutiny)
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| Death to the pigs is my basic statement
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| I spit street stories 'til I taste the pavement
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| Tryin’to stay out the pen while we face enslavement
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| Had a foolproof hustle 'til they traced the payments
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| I was grippin’my palm around some shitty rum
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| Tryin’to find psalm number 151
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| To forget what I’m owed, as I clutch the commode
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| Alright, put down the bottle and come get the guns
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| I get off the chain like Kunta Kinte with a MAC-10
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| They want us gone like a dollar in a crack den
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| Said at least a track then, seeds &stems
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| Mind cloudy through the wheeze and phlegm
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| I’m get my brain off of that and the Jesus hymns
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| If we waiting for the time to fight, these is thems
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| Tellin’us to relax while they ease it in. We gettin greased again
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| The truth I write is so cold, It’d freeze my pen
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| I’m Boots Riley it’s a pleasure to meet you
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| Never let they punk ass ever defeat you
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| They got us on the corner wearin pleather and see thru
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| All y’all’s gold mines they wanna deplete you
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| I ain’t just fin to rap on the track, I fin to clap on the back
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| And it’s been stackin’to that
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| Been a hundred years before iceberg ever lean back in the 'lac
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| Before they told Rosa black in the back
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| Before the CIA told Ricky Ross to put crack in the sack
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| And Gil-Scott tradin’rappin for smack
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| This beat alone should get platinum plaques
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| I’d rather see a million of us ecstatic to scrack
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| 'Cause if we bappin''em back we automatically stack
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| This the guy like Truman C Riq, Boots and me Activate in the community
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| Up in the bay like Huey P It’s like a free, it remind me of the B Kder’s love for me But beats got it twisted, I’ll untangle it Black mind is entwined like the ropes they used to hang us with
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| This is my favorite shit, I came in the game with any way to spit
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| Ya got a questionnaire, who you bangin’with?
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| Take it back to M hotel
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| Throw a step deeper like a poor righteous teacher with holy intellect
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| Killer flow form a real niggaz laughin'
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| and forni fairly at a jigabou at a penitent (???)
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| Once again you can feel hip-hop
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| Underground, still about McGruff
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| Gangsta like, fuck the cops
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| Talib Kweli revolutionary mc, and that ain’t about stuff |