Bulworth (They Talk About It While We Live It)

[Intro: Prodigy]

Aiyyo, word up, dunn

These niggas making me laugh, yo

Gotta be more to it than this, word up

{*doing a slight Scarface impressions*}

This what it's all about Dunn? Uh?

Eating, drinking, fucking, sucking? (Can't understand)

Whattup, I don't know, baby

Nah, man, it's not! It's not! Yo, word up

I'm tellin' you right now

I know this shit though... aiyyo

[Verse 1: Prodigy]

Disagreeable, foul energy

Tryin' to Absorb my energy, knowin' it's the strength of me

Take a few to give me a edge

My green light shine bright – Kryptonite type

Fully operational, my physical clean

Put the bottles and smoke down, picked up a magazine

Popped it inside the AR-15

Put it aside, round up the regime

While you rely on religion

I hold a nine, on a mission to pull fire on your opposition

Revelation was the vision of this

Crack the heavens, it's time to bring the business – shit

My story goes back to the Mars Pyramids

I've seen things that you wouldn't believe exist

You's a luna-tic, suspended in time, dunn

That secondary light got your mind

You rock the fatigues, subscribin' to Popular Guns

But are you really prepared, for the things to come?

[Verse 2: KRS-One]

Check it out

True underground sound from the Boogie Down

Uptown, Downtown, gather 'round for the showdown – in they faces

Calling out these racists

At Rolling Stone, Spin, Details, and other places

KRS is The Source!

Fuck these magazine leadin' Hip-Hop off course

You'll print about Black Mayors, Black Senators

Why you ain't got no Black Editors?

Every time I do an interview in Rolling Stone

They sendin' me a writer that look like he's Home Alone

Ignorant, to the culture and the microphone

This has got to stop – your whole spot is blown sky high

Battle? Why try?

My view is bird's eye, scopin' with my third eye

You don't understand, why you're publicly banned

Until you recognize the writing skills of a Black man

Black Editor, all of us ain't thuggin'

Gossiping over who's homosexual

Some of us are Black Intellectuals, up in Harlem World

You can't get with me

So now in Midtown, you wanna stop and talk to me?

Bitch-ass journalist – 

Is this your fake Hip-Hop publication? Look I'm burnin' this

[Verse 3: Method Man]

How many didn't want to see it happen?

Street moves, live from Staten, if life is a joke, nobody laughin'

Hate to see a brother do good through legal action

So you sabotage and throw a Def in the Squad

Fo'-fo's blastin, keep the po'-po's flashin'

These dark Soul Assassins, jakes hate the Gods with a passion

So I keep it movin' in an orderly – fashion

Pedal to the floor, peep the Jim Crow law, mind control theory

Y'all niggas don't hear me (Word)

Generation X – droppin' fast, who's next?

Next to get wet

By the reign of the TEC-knowledgy, follow me

Open up wide now, swallow me

Every calorie – is reality the truth

The whole truth and nothin' but the truth

Taste is the proof; these niggas want the juice

And in the crossfire be the youth, who didn't learn to duck when they shoot

[Verse 4: KAM]

What kind of party is this? It's that political kind

Where America's best, most hypocritical minds

Try they hands at keepin' y'all deaf, dumb, and blind

And for the right dollar sign, do white collar crime

Behind suits, and clean shaves

I confuse 'em and use 'em as tools and slaves

Because my schools is graves and jobs is plantations –

I robs the damn nation

So I can live in luxury, you fucks with me

You marryin' the dirt, and I'ma throw in the tux for free

I tell the people what they wanna hear

I make 'em laugh and cheer, and then they re-elect me every year

So when the coast is clear, I stop duckin'

And start back doin' dope, cussin', and fuckin'

I kiss the babies, shake hands, wave, and smile for flicks

That's my style, my pile'a tricks

Triple-Six convicts, lyin' is automatic

In the government, Republican or Democratic

Fuck Freedom, Justice, and Equality

Nigga, just accept my apology and suck this trick-knowledgy