Streets

[Intro: Black Thought]

Yeah, that shit hard

[Verse 1: Black Thought]

I said my cranium is vibranium, my brain is uranium and titanium

Forty-fives, who aimin' 'em? Organize the stadium

Tell 'em, "Take cover, I warned you not to play wit' 'em"

Them borderline war crimes, you got away wit' 'em

Who came to save the day and brought the K wit' 'em?

Tariq the people's champ from the equal team

Tryna keep it clean 'long as all my people solid deen

I've been in the music scene long as Allen Leeds

Make they salaries, still accumulatin' calories

Demonstratin' how to breathe, Senegalese, Genovese

I been a reason to freeze, reek G's in the league

On my own, gettin' cheese

I will hurt Hercules, I will merc most MCs

I'm the last one to show up, the first one to leave the crime scene

The obscene, Salam theme, the ridiculous rhyme scheme

The stick to the grind gene, the hell with the hygiene

It's a dirty bomb, word to seven thirty time

Disaster level nine eleven meets the eleven nine

Catastrophe beyond incredible, I redefine the seventh sign

Faster, scarier, mass hysteria from Damascus, Syria

To middle America, school cafeterias and cul-de-sacs

I told you that the boss is back, know what I'm sayin'?

[Chorus: Tish Hyman]

In these streets that I call home

Unless you're blind, you'll see it all

In these streets it's cold at night

Sirens screamin' by, gunshots all the time

[Verse 2: Black Thought]

Yo, omertà code meets the Hippocratic oath

Observin' his whole circus from a diplomatic post

My word and his whole purpose, a cinematic scope

The Earth and its whole surface, I consider that his toast

Same as Sammy Davis, Bellafonte, Quincy Jones

Mahatma Gandhi, James Balwdin, Jesse Owens

Runnin' from a cop car, me and Akbar

I changed from a rock boy to a rock star

Hijack the elevator to the top floor

I'm takin' everything that's left like a southpaw

Crash and burn and learn through osmosis

And watch the word spread like Tuberculosis

I took a snapshot but it hurt to post it

I had a Black Thought and they called it wokeness

Overdoses, water bugs and roaches

Forty Cals and holsters, all halal and kosher

Twenty thousand jokers, one ain't playin'

I'm Claude Brown, Man-child in the Promised Land

[Chorus: Tish Hyman]

In these streets that I call home

Unless you're blind, you'll see it all

In these streets it's cold at night

Sirens screamin' by, gunshots all the time