 [Talib Kweli]
We your rhyme sayers, we lead you
like a beacon
of light, out of the chaos, cuttin
down overzealous
players who stare, when the winners
of the game
walk in well prepared, climbin the
stairways
to heaven while you scared of the
people livin under-
-ground heard the sound of the clap,
made you wonder
If it was a gun, the crowd, or some
thunder
All of that was out my window when
I was younger
Now I'm much older, lyrically clap
MC's
If you don't know by now, let me
acquaint you with my steez
(C'mon) I don't get on stage and
waste your time
Niggaz got a lot to say but they just
can't rhyme
They just babies, I snatch em out
they incubators
Attach them to respirators, they
breathin hard like Darth Vader
Hard as candy and suck like Now or
Laters
After a while your style's tasteless
and it GOT NO FLAVOR
[Bahamadia]
Projects my eyesights to the
heavens like dead or wise sages
Release what I hold sacred through
my book of rhyme pages
Scripts be ageless, like scrolls from
dead sea
The cadence off and on like the
motion of Tai Chi
Ba-ha-ma-D, wor-dy, to Reflect,
Eternally
Science to a remedy to help and get
my people free, but
little support, got my thesis on
freeze
My only option's doin bootlegs for
the Japanese
Get about eight G's, a heavy buzz
overseas
Sacrifice a pill to mainstream and do
what I believe, cause
down to the chromosomes I'm a
purist to this artform
Enlighten who I touch and let the
world catch on
[Talib Kweli + Bahamadia]
Yeah, we your rhyme sayers, who
lead you like a beacon
of light, out of the chaos, cuttin
down overzealous
players who stare, when the winners
of the game
walk in well prepared, climbin the
stairways
to heaven while you scared of the
people livin under-
-ground heard the sound of the clap,
made you wonder
If it was a gun, the crowd, or some
thunder
All of that was out my window when
I was younger
[Bahamadia]
Oppose for the nine, how no content
sections of the earth
Walkin vexed, out of my sticks, laced
on every verse
My cells begin to peak at least a
hundred thousand hertz
Meanin my joint's prevalent in Fat
Beats and Footworks
I cater to these markets first, cause
they gravitate to me
And appreciate the vision of what I
do musically
[Talib Kweli]
Mmm, mmmm, mmmm, mmm!!
I walked in and they stared, see how
they screwin me
Break you down, til you ain't the man
you used to be
Domination of my jurisdiction,
people's addiction to lies
It blurs the lines between the fact
and fiction
Now we back omission, I fix your
face for you, keep yappin
You start to hate the man in the
mirror like Michael Jackson
[Bahamadia]
Majors they try to hold me captive
but mine are figure factions
But the foundation of hip-hop hold
my braincells for ransom
I chance none, fuck them spots on
charts and number one
If it's meant, then I'll accept it
gracious when the time comes
This grassrooted curriculum, got me
sprung like twisted ankles
Experience is missable, so I
approach it from all angles and
inject some substance deep inside of
rap's core
Takin emceein back to where it was
before
[Talib Kweli]
Call us Liberty like the Bell of
Philadelphia scenery
Me and Bahama-D, style free like
Mumia need to be
Seein me, feelin me, we right here
on the level
Turnin hardrocks to pebbles, exposin
the devil
Lyrical olympian like John Carlos
winnin gold medal
Take that bass out yyour voice you
talk to me in treble
I'm "Serious" as Steady B so you
know I ain't playin
I'm stimulatin, makin crowds MOVE
like organizations in Philly
Keep it positive, my prerogative is
exercise
See through the chaos with my third
eye
Word I exhibit the exquitiness, since
a child I was vivid
Throw your hands in the air if you
with it, dig it
[Talib Kweli + Bahamadia]
Yeah, we your rhyme sayers, who
lead you like a beacon
of light, out of the chaos, cuttin
down overzealous
players who stare, when the winners
of the game
walk in well prepared, climbin the
stairways
to heaven while you scared of the
people livin under-
-ground heard the sound of the clap,
made you wonder
If it was a gun, the crowd, or some
thunder
All of that was out my window when
I was younger
[Talib Kweli]
Seven-eighteen, to five-one-three
We meet at two-one-five
Reflection Eternal, Bahamadia, yes
yes
[Xzibit]
Yo listen the fuck up y'all
It's Mr. X to the Z Xzibit
Broadcastin with the home grown
That's right, they straight out of my
backyard
The Beat Junkies, on Rawkus
Records understand me?
It's Soundbombing 2!
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