Testo Human Mic - Talib Kweli
Testo della canzone Human Mic (Talib Kweli), tratta dall'album Prisoner Of Conscious
I exhibit characteristics of the average misfit
Who graduated from stabbing and grabbing a biscuit
It's sick and tragic how antagonistic we get
When it's no power go sour,
I seen him crossing a bridge by the masses,
Covered in the ashes of both towers.
Made in New York and the way that we talk
Make him an offer than you can't confuse
Come back later on after you've thought it over
Look out for shooters that we're popping up at the opera
The popular, adore his pain for the sins of the God father.
Popular music got 'em confused with killers and artists
I kill it the hardest. Competition dearly departed.
They feeling some sort of way 'cause my flow revealing the garbage
I'm making 'em throw it up. You just making the people vomit.
When it comes to this rhymin' I'm a legend like too common,
Or the Chupacabra, the way I move it together it's how I knot 'em.
Make them acclaim my cover, you adapt the way you shot it,
The Amarretta, you're sweet as a girly drink,
Throw it back, coniac, I'm the best, you know that
You can have your own opinion, but not your own facts.
On track as the most prolific ever, the most consistently,
Vicious, New York can rip you, be ripping it like a shread
Some symphony hall shit, getting higher than your faucet,
Getting better. Drop a pearl every jam like Eddie Vedder.
Very fed up with self appoint and preserved us with past errors
That never seen their reflection when they're walking past mirrors.
They got bitten and now they're smitting with the taste of blood and ticking
They taking enough drugs for the sleeping and keeping it fucking and make it up.
Raise the bar and the waiters up,
Others hating, just confused, undergo the way to luck.
The eyes are the window to the souls and my shades is up,
Advocate for artists, regardless cause I got faith in us.
For the worthless who don't get paid enough
Take the bus, hands way too rough for the paper cuts.
As far as they're concerned from on the table on the way to love
Take a slump, feel it to raise a child, you got to raise it up.
Raise it up, raise it up, raise it up, take it up, take it up.
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Jackson, Talib Kweli
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