Letra da Música: Jackin 4 Beats - Talib Kweli & Hi-Tek

We got the Eternalists Talib Kweli on the microphone
DJ Cipha Sounds on the turntables
This is some real hip-hop shit right here
Here I am, come on, R-A-W
Always down to keep the shit up like a ?bubble goose?
Brother who, bring trouble to the industry
With colorful metaphors and similes
I'm sunnin you, what you wanna do
Get rid of me, Cuz I take you back to history
Like when Niggas hung from a Noose
Yo I'm sucker-proof, plus I never do what others do
Thugs running loose, kickin nursery rhymes like Mother Goose
Which one of you(s) want it first
Yo I'm running through your front line
While you still tannin in my sunshine
I got pistol-whip, smack, kick and punchlines
Represent your block, muscle-shot one time

I got rhymes like the Bronx got ?Bohequa?
Soundbombing in your speakers
Rock for the mama citas
Hate to see the party looking like the Promise-keepers
Niggas sword-fighting and shit and wanna cock the heaters
We get retarded like we on the short school bus
Let the legacies of past emcees live through us
Big Pun, Big L, Big and Pac just to name a few
I'm sure there's niggas in your crew too
Shout they name out right here true
But then we always bang out
Slang Ton,Freaky Tye, I never got a chance to hang out with these niggas
But I feel 'em in the spirit, they still here
So my death, I'm a never fear it

Even though I can't stop it
Even though I can't stop it
Even though I can't stop it
Brooklyn where y'all at
See I'm from Flatbush
Where cats rush dancehalls and blacks bust
Shots in the air for the phat cuts and black dust
Burned on the street, I-TAL is how we eat
And we ride dollar vans smoke tree from ?fantaleaf?
Whether crown height, the park slope, the nineties
The fourth green, the Bedstuy
I used to cut Tec when I was fourteen to get high at ??? party
Leavin no evidence for ma dukes
?Ilashkee? kid from off the President
Niggas settling in the residence
That make the ghetto mentality have relevance
Pack metal shit but never for the hell of it
Searching for heaven until we find the truth
The kind I never got from no reverend
And the truth is the Cipha Sounds get nuff props
These other DJ cats is sweet like gum drops
Some got the fly shit that keep the slums hot
Catch a fire like Bob Marley this is just one drop
In a bucket of treats, whether the club or the streets
From cats with the bucket of seeds
To the cats that got nothing to eat
We up in this piece
Fuck the Police and tuck in the heat
Niggas bucking at beast
Really fighting for love and peace
But don't know where to aim at
Mental slaves can't see where the chains at
Ignorance is pop without no entertainer
The nations economy is a situation comedy
Corporations are making money while
The people are facing poverty
I rep for the spiritual rich, lyrically rich
Y'all niggas stand for nothing and fall for anything
Cuz you really be bitch
You feeling me kid, than turn it up a bit
You think you hot I'll shut your heat down like New York Knicks
Word is Bond

Yo, I'd like to take this opportunity right now to big up my man hi-tek
Kweli and hi-tek, reflection eternal for real
But I got one more
'Bout to let this rhyme out on probation
You like a fresh fish thrown to population
Don't give a fuck if I get rocked on your station
I got many ways to spread information
From the Black Star tour I rock nations
My moms runs the whole book store operation
Even underground niggas sell they soul to satan
And I've met commercial niggas who be hating
So I don't fall for the separation
These people are gonna grow up, I got patience
When you're ready to be free, I'll be waiting
Then every hand can go up in celebration
Get 'em up, what?!
Get 'em up, what?!
Get 'em up, what?!
Get 'em up, what?!
Yeah