Move, if you got the nerve Lash out for your just desserts It's not just the words Some of y'all heads up in the clouds I'm a bring y'all back to earth It's black back to birth ... y'all talking bout Out ya mouth, I'm not concerned Cause y'all got to learn It's your turn like Detroit Red When his head had an ultra perm The long walk to burn your bare heels So worn were your boots The game camouflage like army suits But I can see it more clear cause I came with the Coup in here Ring the alarm and form the troops Send them out into the world, go to war on a flute Eye to eye with the enemy you sworn to shoot Now I'm comin at ya next, sick of hearing something wrong with me ... something's wrong with you When you see they just way to smart to question The enemy the brothers of a dark complexion The governments of the world is shark infested They heavy on weaponry like Charlton Heston Man yeah it gets low here real low Know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
[Chorus] I ain't rockin' with you, so what what you goin do? (it's my favorite mutiny) I ain't rockin' with you, your logic does not compute (it's my favorite mutiny)
-Boots Riley- Death to the pigs is my basic statement I spit street stories 'til I taste the pavement Tryin' to stay out the pen while we face enslavement Had a foolproof hustle 'til they traced the payments I was grippin' my palm around some ... rum Tryin' to find psalm number 151 To forget what I'm owed, as I clutch the commode Alright, put down the bottle and come get the guns Now get off the chain like Kunta Kinte with a MAC-10 They want us gone like a dollar in a crack den Steadily subtracting seeds and stems Mind cloudy through the wheeze and phlegm I weed my brain off that and the Jesus hymns If we waiting for the time to fight, these is thems Tellin' us to relax while they ease it in We gettin greased again The truth I write is so cold it'll freeze my pen I'm Boots Riley it's a pleasure to meet you Never let they punk ... ever defeat you They got us on the corner wearing pleather and see-thru All y'alls' gold mines they wanna deplete you I ain't just fine to rap on the track, I'm fine to clappin them back And it's been stackin' to that Five hundred years before Iceberg ever leaned back in the 'Lac Before they told Rosa black in the back Before the CIA told Ricky Ross to put crack in a sack Before Gil Scott traded rappin for smack This beat alone should get platinum plaques I'd rather see a million of us ecstatic to scrap 'Cause if we bappin' them back we automatically stacked
[Chorus]
-Talib Kweli-
[unknown line] like Truman C Tariq, Boots and me Activating the community Up in the bay like Huey P [unknown line] But the beast got it twisted, I'll untangle it Black mind is entwined like the ropes they used to hang us with This my favorite ... I came in the game with a new way to spit That got you questioning who you bangin' with Take it back to Imhotep Throw a step deeper like a poor righteous teacher with holy intellect Killer flow for all my real niggaz lap it up Inform the family of the jiggaboo(?) that there's been a death Once again you can feel hip-hop The underground still about my glock Gangsta like ... the cops Tell 'em Kweli a revolutionary mc, and that ain't about to stop