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[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~!)
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