Guerrilla Monsoon Rap - Talib Kweli, Pharoahe Monch, Black Thought

Yeah

Yeah!

That’s what I’m talkin about!

Let’s do it… Kanye West, c’mon turn me up and

Black Thought, c’mon turn me up and

Pharoahe Monch, c’mon turn me up and

Talib Kweli in the house with

Guerrilla Monsoon rap — all the shorties like «who dat?»

Got the whole crowd like «how ya do dat?»

Nigga you, get smacked 'til ya blue black

And ya crew, give me dap like true dat

We come through and all the shorties like «who dat?»

Got the whole crowd like «how ya do dat?»

Nigga you, get smacked 'til ya blue black

And ya crew, give me dap like true dat

Yo, I hit these emcees with the grip of death like I was a Vulcan

Ain’t a lot of «ifs» an «ands», it’s just straight talkin'

It’s hard to swallow at times, so take portions

Bitin' off more than you can chew, create orphans

Emcee species endangered like dolphins

Rappers is spittin' nails into they own coffins (c'mon)

Hear come the Dundee moves rocket-launchin' (yeah)

Black Thought, quit playin' him close and back up off him

Kweli -- spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee

The real emcee, that your favorite rapper used to be

One by one I knock 'em out like Schoolly D — my rhymes is eulogy

A flea could move a tree, before ya think ya movin' me

I black and blue emcees — actin' new to me, get smacked stupidly

They lack skills, like the black community lack unity (uh)

Still my rhymes hurt like Ali to Fraiz'

Step off the stage to shouts of «Kweli boomayyay!!»

See these four emcees came to get down

Rearrange the rap game, change ya whole sound

Nigga you, got ta, understand the plot ta

Movin' and groovin' and always improvin' alot-ta

I’ll outfox the average Porsche Boxster talk

Break the bank on some old Frank Sinatra (New York…)

Slash Chi-Town, slash Philly

Check the blast from Geneva, you can get slapped silly

Guerrilla Monsoon rap — all the shorties like «who dat?»

Got the whole crowd like «how ya do dat?»

Nigga you, get smacked 'til ya blue black

And ya crew, give me dap like true dat

We come through and all the shorties like «who dat?»

Got the whole crowd like «how ya do dat?»

Nigga you, get smacked 'til ya blue black

And ya crew, give me dap like true dat

Okay… my sound drenches, each of the five senses

And hold the shock value of electrified fences

It’s truth or consequences, ride wit us or against us

Is you a dedicated soldier, or you a princess, dog?

I’m in it to win it and not for the wealth

Got a crib with a Grammy and a gat on the shelf

Nan nigga competition, gotta battle myself

And me and Kweli on a mission, gettin' Pharoahe for help

From natives walkin' the Trail of Tears to players sippin' Belvedere

We always comin' well prepared, and all my dogs' smellin' fear

Plus, even my niggas from the Bay, they say you hella scared

Truth or consequences, and all senses be well-aware

Your style — under-developed there, hell if I care

What hardship you claim to see, but I can tell by your stare

Nigga you fugazi, sayin' ya crew blazin'

Like sayin' Miss Cleo is a true Jamaican, we makin'

Guerrilla Monsoon rap, smell the fumes, get in tune wit it

When I attack your city, y’all gon' think Dr. Doom did it

Spit it like white trash in seed-spittin' contests

With a vendetta that sent a betta letter bomb to Congress

I’m pissed — cumulus clouds of ominous

Words of the Thor, the rawness that’ll restore ya calmness

Unless, you wanna be leg and armless

That’s parapaleg' for those who believe in bomb threats

Guerrilla Monsoon rap — all the shorties like «who dat?»

Got the whole crowd like «how ya do dat?»

Nigga you, get smacked 'til ya blue black

And ya crew, give me dap like true dat

We come through and all the shorties like «who dat?»

Got the whole crowd like «how ya do dat?»

Nigga you, get smacked 'til ya blue black

And ya crew, give me dap like true dat