Talib Kweli - Jackin 4 Beats lyrics

[Produced by Cipha Sounds] (Text break where the beat changes) -Talib Kweli- We got the Eternalists Talib Kweli on the microphone DJ Cipha Sounds on the turntables This is some real hip-hop sh** right here Here I am, come on, R-A-W Always down to keep the sh** up like a ?bubble goose? Brother who, bring trouble to the industry With colorful metaphors and similes I'm sunnin you, what you wanna do Get rid of me, Cuz I take you back to history Like when n***as hung from a Noose Yo I'm s**er-proof, plus I never do what others do Thugs running loose, kickin nursery rhymes like Mother Goose Which one of you(s) want it first Yo I'm running through your front line While you still tannin in my sunshine I got pistol-whip, smack, kick and punchlines Represent your block, muscle-shot one time I got rhymes like the Bronx got ?Bohequa? Soundbombing in your speakers Rock for the mama citas Hate to see the party looking like the Promise-keepers n***as sword-fighting and sh** and wanna co*k the heaters We get retarded like we on the short school bus Let the legacies of past emcees live through us Big Pun, Big L, Big and Pac just to name a few I'm sure there's n***as in your crew too Shout they name out right here true But then we always bang out Slang Ton,Freaky Tye, I never got a chance to hang out with these n***as But I feel 'em in the spirit, they still here So my d**h, I'm a never fear it Even though I can't stop it Even though I can't stop it Even though I can't stop it Brooklyn where y'all at See I'm from Flatbush Where cats rush dancehalls and blacks bust Shots in the air for the phat cuts and black dust Burned on the street, I-TAL is how we eat And we ride dollar vans smoke tree from ?fantaleaf? Whether crown height, the park slope, the nineties The fourth green, the Bedstuy I used to cut Tec when I was fourteen to get high at ??? party Leavin no evidence for ma dukes ?Ilashkee? kid from off the President n***as settling in the residence That make the ghetto mentality have relevance Pack metal sh** but never for the hell of it Searching for heaven until we find the truth The kind I never got from no reverend And the truth is the Cipha Sounds get nuff props These other DJ cats is sweet like gum drops Some got the fly sh** that keep the slums hot Catch a fire like Bob Marley this is just one drop In a bucket of treats, whether the club or the streets From cats with the bucket of seeds To the cats that got nothing to eat We up in this piece f** the Police and tuck in the heat n***as bucking at beast Really fighting for love and peace But don't know where to aim at Mental slaves can't see where the chains at Ignorance is pop without no entertainer The nations economy is a situation comedy Corporations are making money while The people are facing poverty I rep for the spiritual rich, lyrically rich Y'all n***as stand for nothing and fall for anything Cuz you really be b**h You feeling me kid, than turn it up a bit You think you hot I'll shut your heat down like New York Knicks Word is Bond Yo, I'd like to take this opportunity right now to big up my man hi-tek Kweli and hi-tek, reflection eternal for real But I got one more 'Bout to let this rhyme out on probation You like a fresh fish thrown to population Don't give a f** if I get rocked on your station I got many ways to spread information From the Black Star tour I rock nations My moms runs the whole book store operation Even underground n***as sell they soul to satan And I've met commercial n***as who be hating So I don't fall for the separation These people are gonna grow up, I got patience When you're ready to be free, I'll be waiting Then every hand can go up in celebration Get 'em up, what?! Get 'em up, what?! Get 'em up, what?! Get 'em up, what?! Yeah