[Verse 1: Brother Ali]
Speak to the people over the horn
Like Fela Kuti in my favorite kufi
I took a vow to spray the uzi til the day they do me
Do the right thing ain't a movie to me
I'm pale Mooney if you ain't raisin the stakes, then what you sayin' to me
I shoot the hard eight spit strychnine
Hypocrites trying to Bogard whats mine to bolster y'all shine
Y'all got lines in your costumes and cast rooms
This is incense in the back room kickin' your next tattoo
The big man ship has officially landed
Steady layin' hands on this [bleep] planet
Full-blown frantic always want it it the baddest
That's just part and parcel of my starving artist status
The hunger for greatness is utterly ageless
Bubble up on your playlist dumping blood on the pavement
You're playing with some bonafide born troubadours
Bursting through the studio doors hunting for superstars
Confiscating all pro-tools
Smack em out they fanny pack for rapping over vocals
We keep surviving, weaving and bobbin'
Increasing involvement and feasting and fawning
While elite people party, the inmates are free in the asylum
How not to be a product of this weak ass environment
Y'all gotta feel me though the mic game is regal
The light beams will reach you, they can heal a broken people
Regardless of the freeze we on the good shit still
R-I shukka Sean P and Bushwick Bill
Speak to the people over the horn
Like Fela Kuti in my favorite kufi
I took a vow to spray the uzi til the day they do me
Do the right thing ain't a movie to me
I'm pale Mooney if you ain't raisin the stakes, then what you sayin' to me
I shoot the hard eight spit strychnine
Hypocrites trying to Bogard whats mine to bolster y'all shine
Y'all got lines in your costumes and cast rooms
This is incense in the back room kickin' your next tattoo
The big man ship has officially landed
Steady layin' hands on this [bleep] planet
Full-blown frantic always want it it the baddest
That's just part and parcel of my starving artist status
The hunger for greatness is utterly ageless
Bubble up on your playlist dumping blood on the pavement
You're playing with some bonafide born troubadours
Bursting through the studio doors hunting for superstars
Confiscating all pro-tools
Smack em out they fanny pack for rapping over vocals
We keep surviving, weaving and bobbin'
Increasing involvement and feasting and fawning
While elite people party, the inmates are free in the asylum
How not to be a product of this weak ass environment
Y'all gotta feel me though the mic game is regal
The light beams will reach you, they can heal a broken people
Regardless of the freeze we on the good shit still
R-I shukka Sean P and Bushwick Bill
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