Move, if you got the nerve

Lash out for your just deserts

It’s not just a word

Some of y’all heads up in the clouds

I’mma bring y’all back to earth

It’s Black back to burn

The [bad word] y’all talkin’ ‘bout

Out ya mouth, I’m not concerned

Cause y’all got to learn

It’s y’all turn like Detroit Red

When his head had an ultra perm

The long walk will burn your bare heels

Hope you wore your boots

The game camouflaged like army suits

But I can see it more clear cause I came with the Coup in here

Ring the alarm and form the troops

Send ‘em out into the world, go to war in a fluke

Eye to eye with the enemy you sworn to shoot

Now [bad word]  at ya neck, sick of hearing something wrong with me
 [bad word] something’s wrong with you

With a Chief just way too smart to question

The enemy the brothers of a [bad word] 
The governments of the world is shark infested

They heavy on weaponry like Charlton Heston

Man yeah it gets low here uh, real low

Know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout?

Death to the pigs is my basic statement

I spit street stories ‘til I taste the pavement

Tryin’ to stay out the pen while we face enslavement

Had a foolproof hustle ‘til they traced the payments

I was grippin’ my palm around some [bad [bad word] 
Tryin’ to find psalm number 151

To forget what I’m owed, as I clutch [bad word] 
I’d rather put down the bottle [bad word] get the guns

Let’s get off the chain like Kunta Kinte with a MAC-10

They want us gone like a dollar in a crack den

Steadily subtracting seeds & stems

Mind cloudy through the wheeze and phlegm

Numbing my brain off of that and the Jesus hymns

If we waiting for the time to fight, these is thems

Tellin’ us to relax while they ease it in. We gettin greased again

The [bad word] I write is so cold, It’ll freeze my pen

I’m Boots Riley it’s a pleasure to meet you

Never let they punk [bad word] ever defeat you

They got us on the corner wearing pleather and see [bad word] 
All y’all’s gold mines they wanna deplete you

I ain’t just fidna to rap on the track, I’m fidna to clap on ‘em back

And it’s been stackin’ to that

Five hundred years before Iceberg ever leaned back in the ‘lac

Before they told Rosa black in the back

Before the CIA told Ricky Ross to put crack in the sack

And Gil-Scott tradin’ rappin for smack

This beat alone should get platinum plaques

I’d rather see a million of us ecstatic to scrap

Cause if we bappin’ ‘em back we automatically stacked

This the cut like [bad word] 
Riq, Boots and me

Activatin’ [bad word] 
Up in the bay like Huey P

And sucker free, it remind me of the BKer’s love for me

But the beast got it twisted, I’ll untangle it

Black mind intertwined like the ropes they used to hang us with

This is my favorite [bad word]  I came in the game with a new way to spit

That got you questioning who you bangin’ with

Take it back to Imhotep

Go a step deeper like a Poor Righteous Teacher with Holy Intellect

Killer flow for all my real niggas left

But inform the family of the jigaboo that there’s been a death

Once again you can feel hip-hop

Underground, still about my Glock

Gangsta like, [bad word] the cops

Talib Kweli revolutionary mc, and that ain’t about to stop