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Sharp Shooters
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Talib Kweli
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1
Everything is politics, Kweli, people army, you know it
2
(M-1)
3
The white man came to Africa with rifles and Bibles
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Heard the name, started changin the titles
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Now instead of Chaka call me Nat Turner with the burner
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Freedom fighter for this revolution, fuck a wave journer
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See I be what John Wilkes Booth was to Lincoln, blam!
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Sirhan Sirhan, peepin through the curtains with my eyes on a Kennedy
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Dead prez, politic, know your enemy, keep your toast close
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Because political power come from the barrel of it
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We in a war, nigga leave it or love it
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Since they got us in a scope like a P.E. logo
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I watch for the po-po (woop woop) and train at the dojo
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Not a gun Deniro but a working class hero
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Takin a stand, like a panther with an M-1 Guran
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Screamin know your gun laws, self defense is a must
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When we set it off I'm a be the first to bust
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(Chorus - dead prez)
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Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son
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It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me
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Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son
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It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me
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(Talib Kweli)
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What do you do
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When the police kick in your door like 'get on the floor'
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Shoot you in the back
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Cause who you are and where you at's against the law
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You try to protect your home with the illest arsenal possible
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Learn how to heal yourself and stop fuckin with them hospitals
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Get with brothas down for the cause givin it all they got
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But every brother ain't a brother (word), fuck around and get shot
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By these black kings that pack gatlings
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To make a rat sing like Nat King
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Before they start blasting (blow!)
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With no accuracy, handling they beef in the public
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Now an innocent child got a bag for a stomach
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Property value plumit every time a shot is fired (c'mon)
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People feelin betrayed so they take the street to riot
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Cops fire shots and try to stop the spirit takin over the entire block
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Politicians say it's time to march
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But people is past that, ready to blast at whatever comin
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From the master or from the office, niggas is sick of runnin
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Yeah, all my soldier, raise it up, see'mon, now
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(Bust ya guns) yeah, Kweli with dead prez, see'mon
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(Blow blow)
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(stic.man)
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I'm deep in the runs
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Where all that niggas give a fuck about is stackin funds
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The black and young type that's packin automatic guns
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If any static comes sparatic shots'll ring out
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You get caught up, you get your fuckin brains blown clean out
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The killers reign supreme, survival of the illest brain and scheme
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For cream you know the game in my vein
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I feel the pain for all the niggas that passed away
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Tryin to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old fashion way
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Blastin, we actin like cock tecs and tenniments
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My squad flex if any shit pop, and put an end to it
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It's like hell, this planet I'm from consist of dilligent crack sale
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Assisting off the backs of young black males
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It's innocent, suspending in packed jails that benefit
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White well being, while niggas catch hell just for being
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You might as well have a life of crime, ain't nothin free in this life
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I stick a nine in ya spine for mine
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No time for talk, 'cause I walk when I talk
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Stalkin sidewalks of course with the eyes of a hawk
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Crack a quart to get away from this trife world and thought
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Puffin Newports 'cause life's a bitch, and it's too short
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My crew sport leather, gold, camoflauge, rugged denim
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Deadly in venom, totin buckets with nothin in 'em
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But Rawkus, some ill mothafuckas for real
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Straight hustlas with nothin but a taste for kill
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(Chorus) 4x
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(Talib Kweli talking)
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Yeah, see'mon, all my soldiers
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Brooklyn where you at
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Florida, Cincinnati where you at
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Africa where you at, yo
Black Star - Respiration ft. Common
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