Hater Players Black Star (Ft. Apani B Fly)

[Intro: Talib Kweli]
Yes
Everyday, somebody ask me where all the real MC's is at?
They underground!
There's mad talented cats underground with that raw shit
Nah'msayin'? Bringin' them raw skills, nah'msayin'?

[Verse 1: Talib Kweli]
Really, to me, it's a Small Wonder like Vicki why I'm picky
These niggas suck like hickies
And still get to slip they shit in like Mickies
I'm sick of these hater players
Bring on the regulators with the flavors
Ain't no farm team fuckin' with the majors!
Like a river, how I run through it, I do it so cold
Freezin' up your bodily fluids, your style is old
You runnin' ya mouth
Don't really know what you be talkin' about
You should retire, get that complimentary watch, be out!
Yo, with the quickness, so swift, you miss this lyrical fitness
Yo, get this — these MC's wanna test me like litmus
Bear witness; I'm like shot clocks, interstate cops and blood clots
My point is — your flow gets stopped!
By all means, you need more practice, take that ass home
Everybody lookin' at you — fish tank syndrome
In full effect, I stay catchin' lyrical wreck
And keep it blacker than the back of yo' neck
What you expect? MC's hollerin'
'Cause we developin' the followin'
Gettin' played like Stone Love tapes and dollar Vans
Order reverse your universe, so your demise is first
Before your rise, it gets worse
You need a Night Nurse like Gregory
Beggin' me, "Stop! It hurts!" is what you say to me
Like that's supposed to mean somethin'?
You the one I seen frontin' in the club
Your act — I don't buy it, I got the dub
Come on, everybody! Come on, just show your love
Come on, everybody! Come on, just show your love
Come on, everybody! Come on, just show your love
Come on, everybody! Come on, just show your love
Come on, everybody! Come on, just show your love