[Produced by Mr. Green]
[Intro]
Take a piece of America back
It's called truth
[Verse 1: Talib Kweli]
We the last of the vintage flow-ers, we carry it on our shoulders
I keep my friends close and the devils a lot closer
When the Freedom Riders approach 'em, their appetite is vulturous
Soldiers of fortune are never no match for soldiers of culture
My flow is so fuckin' honest, you said you wanted to hear it
You lyin' 'cause all you wanted was for me to lift up your spirits
The truth is too fuckin' ugly and trust me, the shit got layers
You touch me, you think you tough, leave us toothless as rugby players
From sufis to soothsayers discussin' the true saviors
We move with the gangstas, you niggas sweeter than fruit flavors
The booth slayer provin' it's futile to hide from us
You misguided as missiles, so are suicide bombers
Takin' orders from the mullah, waitin' for karma to pull up
Their stones is no match for bullets, Israeli rachets are fuller
Gotta race to meet Allah like they chasin' 'em with a cop car
Like there's honor in being a martyr and the terrorists is the rockstars
Dodging the Abu Dhabi or dodging the paparazzi
Still probably as popular as Swastikas for Nazis
The cops protect the property properly when they crackin' heads
Murderers get as cocky as Perseus when the Kraken dead
I wonder what be runnin' through these crackers' heads
And why niggas is spillin' more blood than Cincinnati caps, black and red
I'll take an Actifed, go back to bed, allergic to the fumes
Havin' a funeral for the news 'cause the facts is dead
The trust is gone from the neocons to Barack Obam'
America eats its young from Casey Anthony to the Octomom (Wow)
Fix it and mix it up like martial arts in the Octagon
I spit the fire 'til we burn down Babylon
[Intro]
Take a piece of America back
It's called truth
[Verse 1: Talib Kweli]
We the last of the vintage flow-ers, we carry it on our shoulders
I keep my friends close and the devils a lot closer
When the Freedom Riders approach 'em, their appetite is vulturous
Soldiers of fortune are never no match for soldiers of culture
My flow is so fuckin' honest, you said you wanted to hear it
You lyin' 'cause all you wanted was for me to lift up your spirits
The truth is too fuckin' ugly and trust me, the shit got layers
You touch me, you think you tough, leave us toothless as rugby players
From sufis to soothsayers discussin' the true saviors
We move with the gangstas, you niggas sweeter than fruit flavors
The booth slayer provin' it's futile to hide from us
You misguided as missiles, so are suicide bombers
Takin' orders from the mullah, waitin' for karma to pull up
Their stones is no match for bullets, Israeli rachets are fuller
Gotta race to meet Allah like they chasin' 'em with a cop car
Like there's honor in being a martyr and the terrorists is the rockstars
Dodging the Abu Dhabi or dodging the paparazzi
Still probably as popular as Swastikas for Nazis
The cops protect the property properly when they crackin' heads
Murderers get as cocky as Perseus when the Kraken dead
I wonder what be runnin' through these crackers' heads
And why niggas is spillin' more blood than Cincinnati caps, black and red
I'll take an Actifed, go back to bed, allergic to the fumes
Havin' a funeral for the news 'cause the facts is dead
The trust is gone from the neocons to Barack Obam'
America eats its young from Casey Anthony to the Octomom (Wow)
Fix it and mix it up like martial arts in the Octagon
I spit the fire 'til we burn down Babylon
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