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