Stand clear to be plugged up into lines one through six
So you can flaunt that legendary style of speak
[Verse 1]
Yo, Black for real, he reps the city of Phil
Park the wheel ("What up, Black?"), fuck's the deal?
Start the drill, the audience keeps still
Thought could spill, he paints a portrait ill
So everything's flames, Black's the name
Raised on the Rakims, Kool G. Raps, and Kanes
A **** used to catch the train with gats to aim
Now I make 'em catch the wave that Black became
Look, baller faction, y'all a fraction
All relaxing, this'll be a call to action
A future, I been seen it all from back when
We would shoot you, we'd either brawl or backspin
Yup, they asking if I'm up, yeah? Well, fuck yeah
I've been top tier so long, it's like I'm stuck here
What fear? Only one I fear is upstairs
Had to do for self, I wasn't permitted to touch theirs
They tryna afford my time to record
No stress, I never do it for some kind of reward
I require me to aspire to the height of the Lord
Then reveal the will of the quill, the might of the sword
I'm like Talib Kweli on Tongkat Ali
The gun back to mutilate the drum track, probably
Facts, I'm more Project Pat than Pat Reilly
I'm Black like Mach-Hommy and strapped just like Tommy
[Verse 2]
Yo, respectfully, with all disrespect intended
You lazy pen **** need to be rescinded
Wannabe lyrical John Gotti when you just John Pilates
Bending, stretching truth, but Plug Won will tell you one thing
We're foundational funding
With investments that gave birth to youth in thinking caps
We run laps, but we ain't passin' off batons
We done that, we side-by-siding it while we find you
Saying, "Don't call it a comeback," but all we see is dicks behind you
As yes men and y'all ain't Todd Smith, the God's gift with the answers to the questions
And who am I? I'm from a band who's been abandoned
'Cause we keep hearing we're appearing in a class by ourselves with tongues
That's native to sons who put the soul in the program of zero and one
[Verse 3]
Ayo, I beat up the drums like the sucker stole somethin'
I'm humpin' on the bass like I never had nothin'
The tweeters in my face like, "Take it, it's yours" (It's yours)
It's hot in this mug, I'm here sweatin' in my drawers
I'm native by design, a brother all the time
"Keep it jungle," is my MO, NY state of mind
A few cards short of a full deck, I know it
I'm cooler than a mother, so I don't hardly show it
The fam is in the building, so I let the dogs loose
B. Thought, Mr. Kweli, and my ****, Posdnuous
The Baby Bam beat sets the tone for the era
Lean back, whippersnapper, we the squad for the terror
The vibes much better, tougher than leather
7-oh to 2G, rolled up together
Smokin' on fat a top, sittin' on a mountaintop
Watchin' all the party people rock to my hip-hop
[Verse 4]
Yup, every flow is a flex
I'm in my B-Boy stance, every pose is a threat
This for my Native Tongues crew, son, we showin' respect
I got my brothers from the jungle and we'll go on a quest
Prepare for the worst, even as we hope for the best
Showin' love to the plugs like a cocá connect
Open your chest like "Alien," choke you to death
Take the crown without ever having broken a sweat
The B-L-A-C-K S-T-A-R, slayin' the fake gods
Straight from the borough that make stars
Everything we spittin' is straight bars
We overcame great odds
I'm rockin' with the Bey like the Based God
That's accurate, ****, do the math like an abacus
Or algebra, the lesson's translated from Arabic
The Gambler's Fallacy, the law of the averages
The champion sound vs the fall of the challengers
[Verse 5]
Cut-cut-cut your nose off to spite your face
I got punchlines that hit below the waist
Fight or flight, looks like you're wearin' a cape
You're on the up and up, but it's goin' sideways
If you know that crime pays, here's an application
Money so tight, cuttin' off your circulation
Not a waitress, I don't take side orders
'Straight out the jungle, done by the forces
Hell or high waters, your socks are showing
Feeding off the crowd, they ain't got me going
You had a moment, put your foot on the brake
'Cause I'm not another sucker DJ, bars for days, with beer on tap
All these beats with my rhymes attached
Five thousand boomin' watts, sound system state of the art
[Verse 6]
Now tell me who told y'all to let a motherfucker back on the block
Busta Rhymes the bully foot, park ship at the dock
I kill 'em 'til they all decay and eventually rot
Do not enter, store shut, bitch, I close every shop
Every time a **** spit, I microphone 'em dumb
Alien bars, they still wonder where the drones is comin' from
Tuxedo on, when I pull up rockin' a cummerbund
**** pull up actin' all weird, now where you comin' from?
****, sip whatever you want, I'm Wray and Nephew rum
Impossible to count ****' pocket, what is you ****, dumb?
I group up **** in ten, attackin' all of 'em
And murk a couple **** in groups, now what's the total sum?
My first album, "The Coming," and see I only come
I was inspired by Trill Burger, the homie Bun
You talk too much, lil' ****, now you's a total bum
The first to franchise rapper fast food as the only one
[Outro]
Yes, indeed
Maseo
Black Thought
Pos Plug Won
Mike G
Afrika
Busta Rhyme
Talib Kweli
J. Rawls
The Confidence of Knowing
Written by: Jason Rawls, Kelvin Mercer, Michael Small, Nathaniel Hall, T. K. Greene, Tariq Luqmaan Trotter, Trevor Tahiem Smith, Jr, Vincent Lamont Mason Jr.