[Intro]
The number 7 is the seeker, the thinker, the searcher of truth. The Seven doesn't take anything at face value, it is always trying to understand the underlying hidden truth. The Seven knows that nothing is exactly as it seems and that reality is often hidden behind illusions
[Post-Intro: Talib Kweli & Styles P]
Yeah
That Kweli ghost shit right here
And I ready
Get your bars up, nigga
Let the games begin
7
[Verse 1: Talib Kweli]
Welcome to the conscience of the nation on hard beats
I rap to my heart beat
Keepin' time as my feet hit the concrete
These dark streets blacker than the color of charred beef
The dark meat falling off like the flesh of a zombie
This freedom, that they dangle in front of us like some car keys
Snatch it back and peel out like a car thief
I'm sharper than shark's teeth
They prayin' cause the bars is godly
I'm a black star like Marcus Garvey
I'm rocking with Styles P, the ghost
'Cause most these rappers is mouthy
Firewater got them feening like alkies
The streets need a mouthpiece
My niggas is just trying to live
No I ain't talkin' Sundays on South Beach
I'm talkin' some days the fridge is empty as the shelves in Bodegas that only sell weed, coke and cigars with the flavors
As far as the neighbors, we at each others throats for the paper
The government gangster so people put they hope in a savior, nope
The number 7 is the seeker, the thinker, the searcher of truth. The Seven doesn't take anything at face value, it is always trying to understand the underlying hidden truth. The Seven knows that nothing is exactly as it seems and that reality is often hidden behind illusions
[Post-Intro: Talib Kweli & Styles P]
Yeah
That Kweli ghost shit right here
And I ready
Get your bars up, nigga
Let the games begin
7
[Verse 1: Talib Kweli]
Welcome to the conscience of the nation on hard beats
I rap to my heart beat
Keepin' time as my feet hit the concrete
These dark streets blacker than the color of charred beef
The dark meat falling off like the flesh of a zombie
This freedom, that they dangle in front of us like some car keys
Snatch it back and peel out like a car thief
I'm sharper than shark's teeth
They prayin' cause the bars is godly
I'm a black star like Marcus Garvey
I'm rocking with Styles P, the ghost
'Cause most these rappers is mouthy
Firewater got them feening like alkies
The streets need a mouthpiece
My niggas is just trying to live
No I ain't talkin' Sundays on South Beach
I'm talkin' some days the fridge is empty as the shelves in Bodegas that only sell weed, coke and cigars with the flavors
As far as the neighbors, we at each others throats for the paper
The government gangster so people put they hope in a savior, nope
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