Yo, when the bass thump, the place jump
|
Like it's way crunk, yeah,
|
Fake punks get they face lumped
|
Sent to the most high, by the most fit
|
You gotta do, fuck that almost shit
|
The fam is close knit
|
You diggin', know the clock don't stop tickin'
|
Glocks still spittin', the whole block politickin'
|
Lik epresidents with they minds dead on arrival
|
Leaving no evidence of a struggle for survival
|
Songs relevant to the times like the psalms read in the Bible
|
Stepping to this leaves thoughts in your head 'it's suicidal'
|
It's the T to the A-L-I-B the deep rooter
|
Rolling with my wanna battle cats who chief buddha
|
And see through the overspecialized, underpressurized
|
No lie texturized, emcees who got the masses mesmerized
|
with empty rhetoric, they better quit
|
Niggas so hollow that they echo like sentiments
|
|
Nowadays rap artists coming half-hearted
|
Commercial like pop, or underground like black markets
|
Where were you the day hip-hop died?
|
Is it too early to mourn? Is it too late to ride? (6x)
|
|
Kwa is chillin', Tone is chillin'
|
What more can I say, we stay building
|
And make killings
|
Take children through the wilderness, by the hand
|
It's a great feeling, show 'em how to be a man
|
Exactly, pack trees in my khakis
|
My sound fat like a Neve while you thin like a Mackey
|
C'mon, shine so bright when I walk by
|
You got ta squint like the motherfucking sun in your eye
|
What! Say somethin, you stay frontin
|
It ain't nothing, let off like I'm big game hunting
|
Me and Tek stay way blunted
|
Wave running on beaches with white sand
|
With a slight tan
|
Smack the mic stand with my right hand
|
When I'm excited
|
Leave you so far in the dust that you forced to bite it
|
On fire like property lost to riots
|
Yo, ain't no stopping us when we all united
|
|
Chorus
|
|
-----------------
|
Too Late
|
Talib Kweli |