Rolling with Heat The Roots (Ft. Dice Raw & Talib Kweli)

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah, uh-uh, come on
Yeah, yeah, uh-uh, come on, uh
Yeah, yeah, uh-uh, come on, come on, I'm ready

[Chorus: Dice Raw & Talib Kweli]
Downtown, everybody move to the beat
Uptown, everybody moving with heat
Cross-town, the party where both sides meet
Eastside, westside, there's always beef
Downtown, everybody move to the beat, come on
Uptown, everybody moving with heat
Cross-town, the party where both sides meet, come on
Eastside, westside, there's always beef

[Verse 1: Talib Kweli]
I tattoo the page with the permanent ink
Mr. Rourke on your Fantasy Island
The umbrella in your tropical drinks
Stirrin' it up, liquor in your cup
Fucking you up
Hang over the banister
You feel the rush of the blood going straight to your brain
Ain't no love, you only love bringing hate to the game
Taking my name in vain, mistaking license for freedom
He make music for the people, people dying to meet him
People!
We still abuse it while, the richest man in music, he probably driving a Buick and be rockin' Van Heusen
Mr. G-U-E-rilla pimp, see how this man do it
Fucking with niggas from Illa-Fifth, see how we ran through it
The river in the valley
The nigga in the alley
Rolling with the heat from BK to killer Cali
The hands will fake the clapping
You'll be collapsing
You softer than Land-o-lakes
Transforming the landscape like a sandstorm in the Sahara
I am the truest nigga
I do more shows than The Roots to Carol Lewis
The creative artist, never play the targets of game-hunters
You may want to test this product like 'caine smugglers
This disco shit
Popping like Crisco
Hitting your face
Spit in your face like pistol shit
My style wild like whip to whip
I go back like a pistol grip
It's pro-black, Kweli!