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C'mon, Yeah |
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I like to take this opportunity, to thank everybody who been riding with me so far |
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Its a been a long journey |
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But they say your life's path is not about the destination |
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Its all about the journey |
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I appreciate y'all |
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It's my blood, sweat, tears, years |
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Struggle, love, hate, fear |
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New York city! |
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You could make it here, you could make it anywhere |
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I came to prepare |
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For the rain, hail, sleet, snow |
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Whatever the weather, we ride |
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Let my people go! |
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To a place where knowledge is born |
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We welcome you to the 3rd eye of the storm |
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Check it out! |
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Futuristic lyricist, straight from the renaissance |
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Top of the suffer chain, raps upper echelon |
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My people suffering, slave to another chain |
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This voyage is maiden, like my mother of the name |
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Is this your first trip to hell? |
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Avenge a capitalist, if its a product then we got it for sell |
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When I first started to spell, my words fell into rhymes |
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Turned into songs, everything else fell into line |
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I paint the pictures, you could see the people bleeding my bars |
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When I was a teen, I was mean, about to reach for the stars |
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So if I fail or fell, write in the clouds, tighten the vowel |
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Niggas word, there use to be no biting allowed |
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Now the gangsters no grindin' allowed |
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Probably see a fight in the stage, fore you see a fight in the crowd |
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I send this out to my people facing the storm |
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Homie we riding it out |
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You inspire what I'm writing about |
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Its the 3rd eye of the storm |
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Check it out! |
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Been ****ing around! |
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I'm not a judge, but I'm handing out sentences |
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To political prisoners, regular inmates with no visitors |
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Niggas in the streets outside to reach up for ministers |
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Not those that say they spiritual, but actual parishioners |
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Rap listeners, we open the black businesses |
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This underground shit, with samples to lack clearances |
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Once you get a past appearances |
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You could tell who shit is fake and who's shit is based upon the past experiences |
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We really been to war, hand to hand like crack sales |
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Bill the man, the man they try to kill off the blackmail |
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Female left to raise up a son |
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From the day he was one |
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Til' he twenty, and he raise up a gun |
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Get to blazin' for his place of the sun |
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Smoke bracin' his lung |
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Young in his years and he's facing a ton |
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None of his peers wanna share the road |
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Love the child, care to provider |
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But they hand a blunt and share saliva |
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You ain't a rider |
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And you hustlin' backwards |
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To many excess, with imitating these crackers |
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So our kids looking up to drug dealers and rappers |
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Taking away all the work away from our black actors |
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Revelation is first and armageddon is after |
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Tsunami's, hurricanes and natural disasters |
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Fast food culture be this, is always a factor |
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It's the gratification |
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They want the cash faster! |
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It's the 3rd eye of the storm |
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It's the place where knowledge is born! |
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Check it out! check it out! |
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Talib Kweli! |
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That's what it is.. |
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Break it down |
