De La Kufi - Brother Ali, Talib Kweli

Speak to the people over the horn

Like Fela Kuti in my favorite kufi

I took a vow to spray the uzi til the day they do me

Do the right thing ain’t a movie to me

Appear horny if you ain’t raisin the stakes, then what you sayin' to me

I shoot the hard eight spit street nine

Hypocrites trying to Bogard whats mine to bolster your shine

Y’all got lines in your costumes and cast rooms

This is incense in the back room kickin' your next tattoo

The big man ship has officially landed

Steady layin' hands on this planet

A full-blown fan and always one of the baddest

That’s just part and parcel of my starving artist status

The hunger for greatness is utterly ageless

Bubble up on your playlist dumping blood on the pavement

You’re playing with some bonafide born troubadours

Bursting through the studio doors hunting for superstars

Confiscating all pros who smack around and fanny pack for rapping over vocals

We keep surviving, weaving and bobbin'

Increasing involvement and feasting and fawning

While neat people party, the inmates are free in the asylum

How not to be a product of this weak ass environment

Y’all gotta feel me though the mic hand is regal

The light beams will reach you, they can heal a broken people

Regardless of the freeze we on the good shit still

All eyes shukka Sean P and Bushwick Bill

We are the good man

Yeah, son

Trust me

Am I a Blood, clot him?

And he just listens to what may I say

Check it!

Time favors the spit kickers and rhymesayers

Ev and Ali is my family, they stay in my prayers

Movin' on up like Dave Chappelle and John Mayer

Singapore eatin' a steam cake that’s nine layers

Promoters owe so all my notes be promissary

Tom and Jerry rappers don’t want none like monasteries

I’m honorary every verse is a doctorate

Collecting PhDs over degrees that doctors get

Where we live ain’t just a trap they had to seal us off

The money, power, and respect is what they kill you for

I’m still involved even if the tried to kill us all

You a flash in the pan, you not hot, that’s just a menopause

Passport pimpin' on the plane soon as i get a call

It’s like, ever since I was born a nigga been absorbed

Rios band for that Dutch river fall

Till writing iron made us tag graffiti on Brazilian walls

My elevation is high, you’re just peaking

A mountain of rhymes, you need a Sherpa just to reach them

Or read him, cause when you see him, you start bleedin' from your eyes

Though I’m seeing from third, I never needed your reply

Leave you wheezin' on the curb, just for speaking to me wrong

We ain’t friends just cause you rap, we don’t have to get along

That’s gonna have to be okay, go ahead and make a diss record

Rap your little heart out, feel better

That’s a little rhyme, get that rhyme?

I put that rhyme in, because quite often dropouts come in to catch the show

Them dumb ass dropouts like those rhymes