The Struggle Continues

(альбом: The Beautiful Mixtape Vol. 2: The Struggle Continues - 2005)

[Talib Kweli:]
Yeah... yeah... let's take it there
You know what the struggle is? (What is it?)
It's beautiful! (Oh yeah, c'mon)
It's not an oxymoron, means the same thing

Beautiful!

Like the passion of sex when you don't have to get protection
And the seed is fertilized it's an immaculate conception
And it grow into a fetus crying like priests having confession
Baby coming out the womb packing and blasting a weapon
For the struggle to show, I let my scars keloid and bubble
Keep it popping all you toys[?] is in trouble
I'm all city, the benjis is all gritty, my pennies is all pretty
If you believe in making change and progress then walk with me
Let me show you a bigger picture (Yeah)
Spit kicker never spit the poison like the liquor
That's filling up your nigga liver
It's more like the herbal medicine purple lettuce and orange hair
I inhale yesterday's breath and blow out tomorrow's air
I'm taking the throne
Instead of creating a poem
I'm making a song
These niggas is happy with just making a clone
So my rhymes turn these wack emcee's faces into stone
Like they just saw Medusa with them snakes in the dome... Rashid

[Common:]
One man rises another falls
To discover all is one and one is all
I come to call like Jericho with the trumpets
It's wild in the hundreds
Gramps in the choir humming
The Lord soon cometh
From blow some grow, many stay stunted
Talks with the shorties knowing, I learn from it
Keep the dumb shit from my circumference
I run with niggas that want it and done it
The hunted and blunted (It's beautiful!)
L said it gotta come from the stomach
To me the stomach is the voice of the Lord
The revolutionary people's choice the award
Seeing souls move forward
Goals move toward new homes and new floors
For us to rise to, in the attic taping up my bible
Thinking how can I apply it to survival?
The un-American idol, seeing vital signs of the times
I put it in my rhymes it's the beautiful struggle

[David Banner:]
I came here to curse the states, like "Fuck You!"
I kill for my sons with guns, like I'm John Q
Now get celled[?] in hell, the Buddha-blessed smoke
Endorsed by the DLs, Crips, Bloods and Folks
If I have to, I'll throw myself on the cross
My souls lost, fuck it man, Jesus paid the cost
So I guess I'll tell a racist cracker go and lay it down
If I die, I die high, blowing on a pound
If you die, you die twice, a neck full of ice
I'm hellbound on trying to save black kids' life
But my Tribe, left a nigga on a Quest like Phife or Jerobi
White bitches scream like Kobe
But you would never know me or what I went through
That's why I'm quick to say "Suck a dick, bitch, and fuck you!"
And I'ma tell the white kids the truth:
They dads raped mine, now what the fuck they gon' do?! (YEAH)