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    Talib Kweli »

    Talib Kweli Guerrilla Monsoon Rap текст песни

    Guerrilla Monsoon Rap

    [Kweli talking]
    Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin about!
    Let’s do it… Kanye West, c’mon turn me up and
    Black Thought, c’mon turn me up and
    Pharoahe Monch, c’mon turn me up and
    Talib Kweli in the house with

    [Hook: Kanye West]
    Guerrilla monsoon rap — all the shorties like "who dat?"
    Got the whole crowd like "how ya do dat?"
    Nigga you, get smacked ’til ya blue black
    And ya crew, give me dap like true dat
    We come through and all the shorties like "who dat?"
    Got the whole crowd like "how ya do dat?"
    Nigga you, get smacked ’til ya blue black
    And ya crew, give me dap like true dat

    [Black Thought]
    Yo, I hit these emcees with the grip of death like I was a Vulcan
    Ain’t a lot of "ifs" an "ands", it’s just straight talkin
    It’s hard to swallow at times, so take portions
    Bitin off more than you can chew, create offense
    Emcee species endangered like dolphins
    Rappers is spittin nails into they own coffins (c’mon)
    Hear come the Dundee moves rocket-launchin (yeah)
    Black Thought, quit playin him close and back up off him

    [Talib Kweli]
    Kweli — spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee
    The real emcee, that your favorite rapper used to be
    One by one I knock ‘em out like Schoolly D — my rhymes is eulogy
    A flea could move a tree, before ya think ya movin me
    I black and blue emcees — actin new to me, get smacked stupidly
    That lack skills, like the black community lack unity (uh)
    Still my rhymes heard like Ali DePhrase
    Step off the stage to shouts of "Kweli boomayyay!!"

    [Pharoahe Monch]
    See these four emcees came to get down
    Rearrange the rap game, change ya whole sound
    Nigga YOU, got ta, understand the plot ta
    Movin and groovin and always improvin alot-ta
    I’ll outfox the, average Porsche ya Boxster talk
    Break the bank on some old Frank Sinatra (New York…)
    Slash Chi-Town, slash Philly
    Check the blast from Genevo, you can get slapped silly


    [Black Thought]
    Okay… my sound drenches, each of the five senses
    And hold the shock value of electrified fences
    It’s truth or consequences, ride wit us or against us
    Is you a dedicated soldier, or you a princess, dog?
    I’m in it to win it and not for the wealth
    Got a crib with a Grammy and a gat on the shelf
    Nan nigga competition, gotta battle myself
    And me and Kweli on a mission, gettin Pharoahe for help

    [Talib Kweli]
    From natives walkin in trailor tears to players sippin Belvedere
    We always comin well prepared, and all my dogs’ smellin fear
    PLUS, even my niggaz from the Bede say you hella-scared
    Truth or consequences, and all senses be well-aware
    Your style — under-developed there, hell if I care
    What hardship you claim to see, but I can tell by your stare
    Nigga you fugazi, sayin ya crew blazin
    like sayin Miss Cleo is a true Jamaican, we makin…

    [Pharoahe Monch]
    Guerrilla monsoon rap, smell the fumes, get in tune wit it
    When I attack your city, y’all gon’ think Dr. Doom did it
    Spit it like white trash in seed-spittin contests
    With a vendetta that sent a betta letter bomb to Congress
    I’m pissed — cumulus clouds of ominous
    Words of the Thor, the rawness that’ll restore ya calmness
    Unless, you wanna be leg and armless
    That’s parapaleg’ for those who believe in bomb threats


    [various ad-libs til fade]

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