Murderous

[Intro: Kardinal Offishall]

Murderous!

Kardinal Offishall and Talib Kweli with a new syllabus

T. Dot, BK stand the fuck up let’s go

Black Jays

It’s Kardinal Offishall my niggas

Black Jays is the team

[Verse 1: Kardinal Offishall]

The fireman fire starter rocks harder

Lyrical jihad shit hard living on the boulevard

First hand man with a plan stand up!

Get the fuck out your Benz

Clean your third eye lens

Got signed Carties still living in the hood

Fucked up the industry like it’s all good

Ever since I came out and rocked the party

Every blood clot rapper want [?]

Anyways, in many ways we display shit

That’s hard to look at like ultraviolet rays

I stays clean, never fiend for the green

If it fucks with my Lou, Black Jays makes a scene

Easy we breeze through your hood

Mixtapes to passport, eat whack niggas for sport

Since the days of jam sports me and [?]

The plan gave up the hoes, I don’t fuck fans

But I fuck with ‘em though, let ‘em know

T. Dot coming for the title destroying in stereo

Mono mono e mono mind your brain get throttled

21 and over like a hennesey bottle

Me and Talib got dibs on the top spot

Air force ones fresh the colour of crack rock

Rocking your concrete sometime soon

Black Jays in your area hungry like noon

Muthafuckers

[Verse 2: Talib Kweli]

International collector of capital

Passport pay unnatural black radical

Chilling in Canada when I spit the flow

I get more chicks in Toronto than a Little X video

I cross the border with a bird or two

It’s personal I got a little merch in this commercial too

What you say perishable in court is inadmissible

Break it down everything you spit is bull, it’s pitiful to watch

I stand out in a city full of hot young spinners

Blow the spot with the best of the T. Dot, yea

Kweli and Kardinal rock with the official

We sharper when we hit and can’t stop to blow a tissue

Doing way more than an’you

What I spit is finna split you in two

It really don’t matter how vocal is you

I’m not to be confused with those who know

Provoke the issue attack, I blast back like Africans in Mogadishu

In fact, our flashback’s bringing out the Nat Turner in me

Where’s the people what’s the word in the street?

I smash king’s the man atop of your throne

Your girl’s riding my poem

I’m like hip hop’s Oliver Stone

From the 718 where the trees grow leaves

To fall and change colours like the [?]

You be lookin’ like a scene out a Spike Lee flick

You ain’t fucking with it, you ain’t tight we sick