Work

[Intro] [Verse 1: Black Thought] Spectate. Cost a buck o'five, the net weight The kid drummer, this will cave in your chestplate It ain't just lines and hooks and fresh bait Yo the bait hook lines for you all to congregate Waiting to taste Philly's own fully grown Rock stone trooper son to the bone the bone You all done stumbled upon the computer code Too raw for you to hold, too much to download It's funny how the murder shit can sound beautiful Pure trooper soul serious bait We on some more talk for the hustle and beats to get sold Move like a body got a mind of its own Yo, I bang like them sheist niggas out in the cold That will snatch niggas up right outside of their home Yet still it's all a quality song, [?] [?], yo everybody get zoned Because it just ain't real without Roots crew in it To black people getting money keep doing it And to whoever will front you know what you can get Uh get the fuck out of here with that stupid shit [Hook: Leela James] As time goes on, one thing is true Soul is a treasure, it becomes a part of you It controls your mind, both you and I And it feels right, you want action You're attracted to the big things [Verse 2: Black Thought] Yo I get stopped on the street a lot, people recognize me Talking stalking walking right behind me Some of them are genuine fans, some are slimy Some be coming at me like "I'm ill nigga, sign me!" Baiting me I'm waiting for you all to rhyme finely Ask them to spit, their shit be like common Nothing I can taste or feel type style Up inside the studio contaminate the real See you all make big mistakes for real. I tried to tell them in Clones You can't sign from the next man's skill I got style half sex appeal and half trife My voice is like a soul nigga on a bagpipe Before we got on stage and got things hype You was boring the crowd performing the last rites Now let me show you how this shit is done It's Black Thought and Questlove on the drum, he the big one And you about to be the victim, because Mars dog Murking with the ham and he thirsty to hit son It ain't nothing but rhymes and ammunition For all y'all dopes with hopes and ambitions Of knocking me off and trying to take my position Stop wishing and sit your ass back and listen To the yo you rocking with the number one best No one for contest. Come on, work [Hook: Leela James] [Verse 3: Black Thought] Yo I want action baby black cherry Cadillac traction Smack shit up you won't know what the fuck happened Thug, you light on the thug and heavy on the passion In South Philly son there's heavy gun traffic Yo I got seven joints, every one a classic sound Down for the long stretch like elastic Catch this, if I'm in the box selling blast or shot My thing is pro hip hop and pro blackness The whole block got straps and throwbacks But yo sometimes it just contributes to the madness We live around wild hazards. The bait is Like a magnet and grown ass kids they want to have it Their hearts pumping overactive in front of their eyes It's so elaborate, ghetto melodramatic Yo I lift it up and come through in the clutch But y'all came here to do it or what? I keep telling you that It just ain't real without Roots crew in it To black people getting money keep doing it And to whoever will front you know what you can get Uh get the fuck out of here with that stupid shit [Hook: Leela James]