[stic.man]
Everything is politics, Kweli, people army, you know it

[M-1]
The white man came to Africa with rifles and Bibles
Heard the name, started changin the titles
Now instead of Chaka call me Nat Turner with the burner
Freedom fighter for this revolution, fuck a wave journer
See I be what John Wilkes Booth was to Lincoln, blam!
Sirhan Sirhan, peepin through the curtains with my eyes on a Kennedy
Dead prez, politic, know your enemy, keep your toast close
Because political power come from the barrel of it
We in a war, nigga leave it or love it
Since they got us in a scope like a P.E. logo
I watch for the po-po (woop woop) and train at the dojo
Not a gun Deniro but a working class hero
Takin a stand, like a panther with an M-1 Guran
Screamin know your gun laws, self defense is a must
When we set it off I'm a be the first to bust

[Chorus]
Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son
It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me
Yo, I'm one with my gun, I love it like my first son
It protects me and makes sure the jakes respect me

[Talib Kweli]
What do you do 
when the police kick in your door like 'get on the floor'
Shoot you in the back
cause who you are and where you at's against the law
You try to protect your home with the illest arsenal possible
Learn how to heal yourself and stop fuckin with them hospitals
Get with brothas down for the cause givin it all they got
But every brother ain't a brother (word), fuck around and get shot
By these black kings that pack gatlings 
to make a rat sing like Nat King
Before they start blasting (blow!)
With no accuracy, handling they beef in the public
Now an innocent child got a bag for a stomach
Property value plumit every time a shot is fired (c'mon)
People feelin betrayed so they take the street to riot
Cops fire shots and try to stop the spirit takin over the entire block
Politicians say it's time to march
But people is past that, ready to blast at whatever comin
From the master or from the office, niggas is sick of runnin
Yeah, all my soldier, raise it up, c'mon, now
(Bust ya guns) yeah, Kweli with dead prez, c'mon
(Blow blow)

[stic.man]
I'm deep in the runs 
where all that niggas give a fuck about is stackin funds
The black and young type that's packin automatic guns
If any static comes sparatic shots'll ring out
You get caught up, you get your fuckin brains blown clean out
The killers reign supreme, survival of the illest brain and scheme
For cream you know the game in my vein
I feel the pain for all the niggas that passed away
Tryin to get cash the fastest way we know how, the old fashion way
Blastin, we actin like cock tecs and tenniments
My squad flex if any shit pop, and put an end to it
It's like hell, this planet I'm from consist of dilligent crack sale
Assisting off the backs of young black males
It's innocent, suspending in packed jails that benefit
White well being, while niggas catch hell just for being
You might as well have a life of crime, ain't nothin free in this life
I stick a nine in ya spine for mine
No time for talk, 'cause I walk when I talk
Stalkin sidewalks of course with the eyes of a hawk
Crack a quart to get away from this trife world and thought
Puffin Newports 'cause life's a bitch, and it's too short
My crew sport leather, gold, camoflauge, rugged denim
Deadly in venom, totin buckets with nothin in 'em
But Rawkus, some ill mothafuckas for real
Straight hustlas with nothin but a taste for kill

[Chorus] 4x

[Talib Kweli]
Yeah, c'mon, all my soldiers
Brooklyn where you at
Florida, Cincinnati where you at
Africa where you at, yo

[Lilscienz]
Yo, freestyles, reside to the e-ventually
You might see me, kick the spree
Get the tape in the Benzi box
Up in club spots
On a regular base
Anytime and place
What? Like Janet, I slam kids
Harder than Sha-quille O'neal down to the masses
I take crews back to, um, hiphop classes
Because they didn't surpass this
We reside actually, acrobatically, yo...

[???]
Came and burn me if you spit words in flame from your brain
(What?) Rugged terrain, style insane, you's the lame
(Huh) Freestyle or written strictly shittin on emcees
Drop these, mad degrees on emcees
Everyday, everynight
You fight for the mic, but you can't handle it
I dismantle it, bust you in your head with it
You know you can't spit it like I spit it
Yeah you shit it in the toilet bowl
You know I got nuff soul
Y'all control the core cipher
You know we drop this, and got emcees following like the Pied Piper
You know we hyper, so...

[Wiseguy]
Yo, yo, yo; can I get a chance to drop in the cipher?
Set the shit on fire
Yo why the, beats stop?
I don't know the beat-box is coming in
Got you counting from on to ten
And by the time you get up to nine, your ass is left behind
Cause you can't mess with the lyrical master rhymes
Send niggaz to pass the time, coming off the mind or the brain
Can't maintain I'm type strange
And ill, in the mind of Wiseguy, that's right
I'm the baddest on the mic, I'm average height
Got a huge appetite, sorda like Iron Mike
Cept I don't bite, I just fight, with raps all right
Use the left and the right, recite styles is hype off the top
Pardon me but stop the beat-box
Cause yo I got beats son
(Aw word?) (Aight) My bad, I didn't mean to kill that shit.  (That's alright,
man, y'know what'm sayin?)

[Talib Kweli]
The beats is always love, y'know what'm sayin?
niggaz always show love with the beats.
(My little yellow box, always come in handy) Y'know what'm sayin?
Yo, this is like a whack emcees nightmare, y'know what'm sayin?
Thats why I'm right here, y'know what'm sayin?
*beat comes in*
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo; My name is Kweli, from the Eternally
Reflection, spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee
*aside* Yo, wassup y'all, wassup y'all, Im doin this
I love the rush that I get seein a whack emcee's bottom lip quiver
He know he gettin smacked for every whack rhyme he deliver
Whether in allies or back streets, or the stairwell to Fat Beats
I come off like the ink that be staining my hands in rap sheets
With lyrics stronger than Samson, to send Marilyn Manson
back to Hell, the resurrection of Fred Hampton
You can tell by the way your shit swelled and lump up
Whenever punks jump up
They get down, for thinking they Bone creeping on a come up
Now I got one up, but we much more than crabs in apparel
Or fags who rap about apparel with an outlook that's mad narrow 
We civilized, so on the microphone we vilify
For proving that the niggaz with skills is still alive
(Still alive) (Still alive) (Still alive)

[Shabaam Shadeeq]
Aiyyo, freak that, I'm leavin rappers hangin like kiddybacks
Or hats on coat racks, I'm rough like porcupine backs
Smack the emcees that lack, but, yo, they knew that
Like the flute blew through that, with nothing but facts
Deejays cut the wax, snare sharp like ax
Mic acrobatics and writing the star static
From basement to attic, get smacked, act dramatic
I had it with some of these fake rhyming ass faggots
Who Shabaam Shadeeq they ass, make it blast
Stone for cast, whiplash like car crash, black flag
For emcees that multiply, act bad, make you thinkin your rhyme bad
Got all the skills you wish you had, dreams you had
Scorch that ass and make you take the words back
To the foundation of that whack verse creation
Double S, who wan' test? smash your face in

[Building Block]
Yeah, yo, yo; my shops cop ?more ‘neath?
Things in caster rock
And get you open with the combination, like master lock
Let it be known, that none could ever pass the Block
and when the spot get blown, I hit you with the ?yeah, first shot?
Traffic stop when I'm jammin, cause I got more back than gammon
Slammin those that oppose my flow like salmon
Foes be standing clear, cause, yo, they can't compare
The only thing that could hang in hear is a chandelier
This man could care less what them say, kick it like sensai
Then stay, on your mind like Ash on a Wednesday
He at a loss style, got no cause to smile
I toss that ass all across, kinda like a foster child

[Mr. Metaphor]
It's Mr. Metaphor, everybody gather round 
Live in stereo sound and very profound
Deeper than a burial ground, I'm aerial bound and shuttin
Comped down as I rock like Charles Dutton
From Gangster Putnam I cut em from every angle
Far from a square cause I wreck when I tangle
Minds I mangle, mic's I strangle in advance
In every circumstance I leave you shook like turbulence
You'll never get this, I'm up in that ass like a tetanus
?Master these? rhymes and drop more lines than Tetris
I'm sicker than asbestos, spraying rhymes like aspesticides
Best to step aside, realize who the best is

[Lilscienz]
One two, one two
The Scienz of Life, we ?X? to New Jeru
One two, one two
Yeah, the Scienz of Life, we ?X? to New Jeru
Yo, let's go back like ?Gilda Masheviks? 
With phat challenging methods
The rhythm stays energetic
The pen's motions kinetic
See Heaven sent styles, bless the ears of my peers
Even older heads get contacted
From bomb tactic
Exploding in your nearest tabernacle, Holy like Kadesh
HTM, bow lyricists
You feel it in your chest son, like that Nine Ether
Sound right, reasin em, pleasin em through the speaker
For years and years mad heads doubted me
Then I changed hiphop, into new-op, its best described as alchemy
The scientist, applying this throughout the global
I stays universal with the vocal
Attracting your focal points with each joint performed at live shows
While Lilsci' verbally fly with dime flows
My mind grows, being divine, strolls, by the Master
One verse could cause cataclysmic disaster
But the truth hurts to be murder with spoken words
Profound sound all in your section
No question
The Scienz of Life, don't confuse it
Aiyyo if it don't sound right than it ain't music

*indistinct chatter by emcees overlapped by security guard saying:*
Alright, alright fellas, fellas, fellas, fellas, hold on, hold on,
hold up a second
You guys, you guys can't be making this noise
with the music and everything.  (Aw, come on!)
You gotta leave this area.  I gotta clear this spot.
(We gotta go inside right now) So get on line.  (We got tickets)
So get on line (We got tickets)
Alright, alright, you gonna get, you got tickets
so get on line, and get out of this area.
The line is over there.  (We were just doing our thing)
Its all good, its all good.  Get on line, alright.
(Whatever, whatever) Little youngsters.

Manifesto, this is what we want to see happen
for my peoples still breakin graf writin and rappin
I rock the mic right and exact my life's my sacrifice
Take my mic and I'm like a Chinese man with no rice
Oh yeah we flippin through the pages of time, to find design
Like Vaseline on the faces of Black Georgia, we shinin
Deeper than petroleum jelly, we in the air like conversations
on celly and just appear like stretch marks on bellies
after givin birth you had to let go, you playin for life
The Manifesto, here comes the beat because I said so keep pushin
I got the cushion for the seat of your soul
Back in the day they stole our smile, so we clothe our teeth in gold
and we frontin, from nigga to kid, to Son of God
It's wild dependin on labels for man woman and child
My style just is, all that's seen and all that's heard
God gave us music so we play with our words
So when Tek be in constant meditation like a monk
while Kweli speaks in tongues to get your intellect drunk
yo we bound to take over the 90% of your brain that you ain't usin
To us it's life or death we keep you chosin

Every shook eye ain't seen, every goodbye ain't gone
Ain't no rest for the weary yo forever it's on
The Manifesto, establishes a hip-hop order
Movin upon the face of the water, like Reflections

Aiyyo all the real MC's can meet me outside
So we can decide how we gonna change the tide
like the moon we on the Earth takin a ride around the Sun
Now Son we only just begun, and the journey's far from done
We all miss you, what your brain gone fishin like Walter Mosley?
There's an MC that can hold me, supposedly?
No one could come close to me, only, the family really know me
Hip-Hop's last hope like Obi Wan Kenobi
Through your television I'm shinin light like a train
Comin out like earthworms when it rains, bringin it
like the C.I.A. be bringin in crack cocaine bailin out of planes
with the George Bush connections, I push Reflection
like I'm sellin izm, like a dealer buildin the system
Supply and the demand it's all capitalism
Niggaz don't sell crack cause they like to see blacks smoke
Niggaz sell crack cause they broke, my battle lyrics
get concious minds provoked and ghetto passes revoked
cause we surrounded by the evil, you know that the people's minds
is feeble they believe in it, even if it don't make sense
This makin dollars shit, don't take a scholar to
see what's goin on around you, either you widdit or you ain't 
is what it comes down to, have you forgotten?
We pickin 100% designer name brand cotton
They still plottin, my Third Eye is steady watchin

Every shook eye ain't seen, every goodbye ain't gone
Ain't no rest for the weary yo forever it's on
The Manifesto, establishes a hip-hop order
Movin upon the face of the water, like Reflections

(Yeah see that's what I'm talkin about, it be the slaughter man
We need to break it down because these heads
they don't know what they talkin about
Frontin all this nonsense, yo break it down)

From open mics to solutions I got a collage of answers
and a ten point program, just like the Black Panthers
One: First respect yourself as an artist
If you don't respect yourself then your rhymes is garbage
Two: Make sure your crew is as tight as you
cause when them niggaz fallin off they gonna bring you down too
Three: Understand the meaning of MC
The power to Move the Crowd like Moses split the seas
Four: Know your shit and don't ever be blunted
If you don't know what your words mean then your rhymes mean nothin
Five: Kick facts in the raps, and curse with clarity
What's a curse when language is immersed in vulgarity
Six: We gonna fix industrial poli-tricks
Shit they made an artform out of ridin dicks
Seven: We soldiers for God needin new recruits
So if you rhymin for the loot then youse a prostitute
but Eight: Acknowledge that you need food on your plate
In order to say your grace make sure your business is straight
Nine: We buildin black minds with intelligence
and when you freestyle, keep the subject matter relevant
Ten: Every MC grab a pen
and write some concious lyrics to tell the children
I'll say it again, every MC find you a pen
And drop some concious shit for our children
The Manifesto!

Yeah
Now here we go
Here we go (come on come on)
Now here we go
Here we go (come on come on)
Yeah

Stay strong this ain't for the plain hearted
My name's honored cause my style is insane retarded
Remain hottest from St. Marks to St. Thomas
Take game farther than the Putt-Putt planes chartered
The same artist who smoke rain forest will bang hardest
My brain smartest break a nigga like a lame promise
All city like train bombers
Check out the pictures we painted (yeah)
More colorful than Kelis naked
Your skills is least debated and your album least awaited
Even Big Tiger wouldn't let you in the basement
Face it y'all niggas face down with your legs kicking
They call your momma Roy Jones cause she raise chicken
Your down for the count like Rah Digga I'm straight spitting
Make pidgins say, "uh uh no they didn't"
Yes we did so god bless the kid yo
I got my own so I never stress his no

[Chorus]
In this journey you're the journal I'm the journalist
Am I eternal or an eternalist?
As soon as we showed up I sensed nervousness
As soon as we rolled up y'all burn to this

Here we go 
Come on
Yeah yeah (yeahhh)
Yeah yeah (yeah yeah come on)
Yeah yeah
Come on come on 

Yo we send this bullet straight towards your brain
We taking over like mores in Spain there's more to gain
Runaways get aboard the train (come on)
You can't ignore the pain (no)
When it come down like the pouring rain
Caught the train of thought and claim to cross the broad terrain
The cold weather break your spirit like a water main
I looked in your eyes and I saw the shame
Y'all don't know that a greatnest came before the chain
Till you can't imagine a future where this all could change
If one of us ain't free then we all to blame
So we attack each other fighting project wars and thang
It's all the same across the board we off again
You wanna sieve through that shit then you can call my name
Kweli I chopped it up like raw cocaine 
I drop jams in top ten I'm not for the fame
You wanna test and I bet you get wrecked like lost planes
Yo

[Chorus] 2x

And there it is (yeah)
Yeah yeah (yeah yeah)
Come on 
Yeah yeah (yeah yeah)
Yeahh
Yeah yeah (yeah yeah)
Yo yo yo 
Say whaaat? Say what, say what, say what

I rock for the purest and I rock for the players
I rock for the fellas and I rock for the ladies (come on)
I rock for the elders and I rock for the babies (yeah)
I rhyme to the sirens that cry in the night (yeah)
Live on the mic even though I've been dying to write (yeah)
Since the day of flying a kite and ridding my bike (come on)
Open my eyes and keep the prize within my line of sight (yeah)
Cats dropped out of school to keep fiends high on the pipe (word)
Seem like that's the get away of trying to fight
The system thats based on trying to stop you from shinning your light
Dying in spite of getting rich
That's why I rhyme like a battle emcee
Battling the tragedies and fallacies
That be killing niggas quicker than infant mortality
They acting like whats going on now is distant reality
Behaving so casually that they become a casualty
Plus they don't wanna battle me anyway
They try to walk away but they stubble like Macy Gray
Cats hit the tunnel to rumble and say, "Hey DJ!"
Make me wonder why they call Sunday the lazy day

[Chorus] 2x

Check me out

yeah yeah
yeah yeah
yeah yeah (fades)