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Song Details
Artist(s)
  • Talib Kweli
  • Album(s)
  • Eardrum (buy)
  • [opening the same as the break from Lords of the Underground's "Funky Child"]

    [Talib Kweli]
    The year is 1975 (yeah, hahaha!)
    Brooklyn, New York City (stand up)
    A child destined for greatness is born (we goin in)
    Let's go!

    Get your hands in the air (get 'em up~!)
    Put your hands in the air (put 'em up~!)
    Get your hands in the air (get 'em up~!)
    Put your hands in the air (put 'em up~!)

    [Chorus]
    Talk shit now (now... now... now...) What? What?
    Talk shit now (now... now... now...) What?
    Talk shit now (now... now... now...) What?
    Talk shit now (now... now... now...) What?
    Talk shit now (now... now... now...)
    Say something, say something (what was that?)
    Say something (I dare you), say something

    [Talib Kweli]
    (The Lord Chief Rocka) I'm colder than meatlockers
    My people keep throwin it up like cheap vodka
    I smack internet MC's and beat bloggers
    You can see my (Black Thought) like 'Riq Trotter
    It's deep, go ahead and sleep, they know in the street
    Kwe' gon flow on the beat proper composin complete operas
    Longer than a cigar that's Godfather
    Tappin two heart chakras I'm harder than gobstoppers
    People comin for the throne not knowin the seat hotter
    than fish grease, criminal names on police blotters
    You convinced me, I hit targets like top shotters
    Out in the mideast like Muslims takin Shahada
    I'm sayin makin a profit a product of Reaganomics
    Awake and I'm stayin conscious to radio playin garbage (yeh!)
    Blacksmith Music, if you don't pay homage
    I'ma show you how we break an artist
    That's a threat, I'm not makin a promise
    Speak to the people like Barack Obama
    They worship like the black Madonna, c'mon
    Niggaz talk shit, but they ain't got skills
    I'm the type of nigga to put lead in your grill
    Number two pencil is sharper to bruise mentals, and
    beatin in my chest is the heart of a true gentleman
    Still spit right in your face
    Fuck a Top 8, back up, gimme (MySpace) you're not safe

    [Lords of the Underground horn break again]
    Hahahaha
    Yeah, they say I'm back, but I ain't go nowhere though
    Been here the whole time
    Where you been? You back
    Matter fact, apologize

    [Chorus]

    [Jean Grae]
    Yeah, open your mouth, say somethin, I fuckin dare you
    Chokin you out 'til you can't suck any air through
    Fuck with your man too, thinkin I can't do what I plan to
    Vet vandal, niggaz are brand new
    Ain't knew I was bad news? Look at the tattoos
    Get ran through like you was fingers through Sassoon
    Horror chick in the bathroom, off the backstage room
    Shit you couldn't imagine, nigga I'll harass you
    I'll Ras Kass you, (Soul on Ice) and body cast dude
    Past due, Jean and Kwe' the last two action heroes
    Actually had the capacity, to be the ones in a class of zeroes
    Hip-Hop's not dead, it was on vacation
    We back, we bask in the confrontation
    You can ask me, have any conversation
    You talk shit, Blacksmith, Jean, I'm waitin nigga

    [Chorus]

    [Talib Kweli]
    We not fallin for your trick cause your image is like a gimmick
    Forget it every rhyme is bitten, you like a mimic
    I'm talkin to the lord and I'm askin him for forgiveness
    Just for kickin niggaz out the club like Michael Richards
    Yeah I admit, I'm guilty, the way I spit is filthy
    I keep it gritty so they get it they feel me, the flow
    is known for touchin the soul of street hustlers
    I speak in the language they know I keep customers
    The writin therapeutic, it's due to the pain and sufferin
    While these dudes get it confused and abuse the creative substance
    I'm givin you a contact high, my name buzzin
    And I came in the game with nothin, stop frontin nigga
    Talk shit now!

    [Outro - over LOTUG break again]
    The year of the Blacksmith is not defined by any calendar
    Just thought I'd remind all you challengers
    Get the name right, Talib Kweli, BKMC, say it again

    Get your hands in the air (get 'em up~!)
    Put your hands in the air (put 'em up~!)
    Get your hands in the air (get 'em up~!)
    Put your hands in the air (put 'em up~!)

    All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners.