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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Mos Def
Vocals
Talib Kweli
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Talib Kweli
Songwriter
Dante Smith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Shawn J. Period
Producer
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Ken "Duro" Ifill
Mixing Engineer
Surge
Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Once upon a time not long ago
When people wore Adidas and lived life slow
When laws were stern and justice stood
And people was behavin' like Hip-Hop was good
There lived a little boy who was misled
By a little Sha-tan and this is what he said
"Me and you kid we gonna make some cash
Jackin' old beats and makin' the dash"
They jacked the beats, money came with ease
But son, he couldn't stop, it's like he had a disease
He jacked another and another, Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder
Set some R & B over the track for "Deep Cover" (187!)
The kid got wild, started actin' erratic
He said, "Yo, that presidential I got to have it"
With liquor in his belly son, he made up the track
But little did he know that his joints was wack
The shiny A&R said, "Great new hit, G!"
"Whenever you need a loop, yo, come get me"
The kid got amped and he starts to figure
"I'ma get dough like all of these other ****!"
So, he's in the studio workin' 'round the clock for pop radio
Jacked the beat to 'Planet Rock'
Was out in the street when he met this sister
Who couldn't sing for shhh but the mix would assist her
Hooked up the track and in excitation
He decided he'd head for the radio station, but (What?)
He was runnin' and he made a left
Was skeezin' at top speed and ran into Mos Def
I slowed the young man down and I started, "Yo money, yo, why you sellin' lies to our wives and children?"
He ran upstairs up to the top floor (Floor)
Opened up the door, then guess who he saw? (Who?)
Jane the chickenhead radio host
Who be yappin' 'bout beef between East and West Coast
He said, "This one's a bullet, you got to give it run!"
The chicken said, "Thanks" and spanked it number one
He went outside, was gettin' props all over, then he dipped into his ride, the 4-point Rover
Raced up the block doin' eighty-three (Three)
Some cats with Hennessy saw him at a R-E-D (D)
He winked his eye like his star status mattered
They rat-a-tat-tatted to make his blood splatter
"You rockin' crazy ice and all you do is cling static
And rollin' out in Brooklyn late night is problematic"
His eyes was bloody red, he hung on every word they said
They told the kid, "Back down, that player shit is dead"
Deep in his heart, he knew he was gone
But he grabbed his .45 and decide to blaze on (Uh)
With shades on founded had him astounded and
Before long the young man got surrounded
Those grabbed the guns, so goes the glory
And this is the way I got to end this story
He was out chasin' C.R.E.A.M. and the American dream
Tryin' to pretend the ends justify the means
This ain't funny so don't you dare laugh
It's just what comes to pass when you sell your ass
Life is more than what your hands can grasp
Good night!
[Outro]
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos
Knock 'em out the box Mos, knock 'em out Mos
Knock 'em out
[Outro]
Another, Mos Def, Black Star Movement
Presentation
Crumbs!
Written by: Mos Def, Talib Kweli