Chips

[Intro: Talib Kweli] Indie 5, Collins Javotti, our time, north time [Hook: Talib Kweli] Flatbush to Abbey Road, who got that soul? We 100 on the road, 100 at home Rose from the ruins like a Pac poem We ain’t going back to the Brook without the chip We ain’t going back without that chip We ain’t coming back to the Brook without that chip We ain’t coming back without that chip You got next, we got forever, join the list [Verse 1: Talib Kweli] Fresh from the lab like I got the cure Nothing but the pure for the world to hear It’s like gravity cause it pulled us here Red carpet, world premiere Cinematic, they know the score Instant classic, tour de force I paid the price, I know the course I shake the dice, I know the toss It’s simple really but you know it’s deep When the angel and the devil on the shoulder speak Two voices, two choices Prepare for war or go in peace They don’t believe I’m touring overseas “Nah, he don’t even rap about coca leaves” Think globally, not locally You ain’t woke as me, nigga go to sleep Thank God I’m back, this ain’t hard in fact This target practice, red beams Standing up cause I’m man enough And then turn her on like wet dreams You can wet it up, you can step it up You ain’t catching up with my jet stream And I’m going too fast so I put ‘em up last Why you showing yo ass? This ain’t sex scenes They ain’t built to last, they bust quicker Fast talking like tongue twister These young spitters can’t fuck with us Pardon my French like I tongue kissed her Back in the day they used to hunt niggas And they hung niggas for being hung niggas Now the guns are spittin’ when the hunger hit us These young niggas like come and get us [Hook: Talib Kweli] Flatbush to Abbey Road, who got that soul? We 100 on the road, 100 at home Rose from the ruins like a Pac poem We ain’t going back to the Brook without the chip [Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame] Waka! Waka! Waka! Flocka! Flocka! Flocka! Flame! Hah! Fuck that shit, this is quality trap Y’all really thought I could hardly rap Better watch ya front, better guard ya back Every muh'fuckin’ bar is a heart attack Better work out hard, watch your cardiac Where my shawty at? Where my 40 at? My shit a event, you shit a show Nigga I could still get a brick for the low Nigga I could still put dick in ya hoe And I’d rather die rich than live po', oh Busta Bust better give me some mo’ We gon’ hit a lick then divvy the dough I’ma sell again one minute ago I don’t give a fuck if you friendly or foe I need the ring, gimme the ring I don’t diss rappers, get in the ring Sit in the clink before I ever sing You see me winning, chips with my team (Brick Squad!) Real shit you gotta deal with Better check the torch, we still lit "Flocka, who you wanna get a mil with?" Niggas I ain’t used to have a meal with I’m enlightened now, they frightened now So excited, you like it then bite the style They did it before, they’ll do it again I’m a motion picture, let the movie begin Scared to hit niggas, they’ll sue me again Got platinum plaques, I’m a truly gem I’m a rudeboy, roll the doobie again Forward marching, we moving in Flocka! [Hook: Talib Kweli] Flatbush to Abbey Road, who got that soul? We 100 on the road, 100 at home Rose from the ruins like a Pac poem We ain’t going back to the Brook without the chip We ain’t going back without that chip We ain’t coming back to the Brook without that chip We ain’t coming back without that chip You got next, we got forever, join the list