Native Sons (Part 2)

[Intro: Maseo]

Native Tongue Brothers

Stand clear to be plugged up into lines one through six

So you can flaunt that legendary style of speak

[Verse 1: Black Thought]

Yo, Black for real, he reps the city of Phil

Park the wheel ("What up, Black?"), fuck's the deal?

Start the drill, the audience keeps still

Thought could spill, he paints a portrait ill

So everything's flames, Black's the name

Raised on the Rakims, Kool G. Raps, and Kanes

A nigga used to catch the train with gats to aim

Now I make 'em catch the wave that Black became

Look, baller faction, y'all a fraction

All relaxing, this'll bе a call to action

A future, I been seen it all from back when

We would shoot you, wе'd either brawl or backspin

Yup, they asking if I'm up, yeah? Well, fuck yeah

I've been top tier so long, it's like I'm stuck here

What fear? Only one I fear is upstairs

Had to do for self, I wasn't permitted to touch theirs

They tryna afford my time to record

No stress, I never do it for some kind of reward

I require me to aspire to the height of the Lord

Then reveal the will of the quill, the might of the sword

I'm like Talib Kweli on Tongkat Ali

The gun back to mutilate the drum track, probably

Facts, I'm more Project Pat than Pat Reilly

I'm Black like Mach-Hommy and strapped just like Tommy

[Verse 2: Posdnous]

Yo, respectfully, with all disrespect intended

You lazy pen niggas need to be rescinded

Wannabe lyrical John Gotti when you just John Pilates

Bending, stretching truth, but Plug Won will tell you one thing

We're foundational funding

With investments that gave birth to youth in thinking caps

We run laps, but we ain't passin' off batons

We done that, we side-by-siding it while we find you

Saying, "Don't call it a comeback," but all we see is dicks behind you

As yes men and y'all ain't Todd Smith, the God's gift with the answers to the questions

And who am I? I'm from a band who's been abandoned

'Cause we keep hearing we're appearing in a class by ourselves with tongues

That's native to sons who put the soul in the program of zero and one

[Verse 3: Mike G]

Ayo, I beat up the drums like the sucker stole somethin'

I'm humpin' on the bass like I never had nothin'

The tweeters in my face like, "Take it, it's yours" (It's yours)

It's hot in this mug, I'm here sweatin' in my drawers

I'm native by design, a brother all the time

"Keep it jungle," is my MO, NY state of mind

A few cards short of a full deck, I know it

I'm cooler than a mother, so I don't hardly show it

The fam is in the building, so I let the dogs loose

B. Thought, Mr. Kweli, and my nigga, Posdnuous

The Baby Bam beat sets the tone for the era

Lean back, whippersnapper, we the squad for the terror

The vibes much better, tougher than leather

7-oh to 2G, rolled up together

Smokin' on fat a top, sittin' on a mountaintop

Watchin' all the party people rock to my hip-hop

[Verse 4: Talib Kweli]

Yup, every flow is a flex

I'm in my B-Boy stance, every pose is a threat

This for my Native Tongues crew, son, we showin' respect

I got my brothers from the jungle and we'll go on a quest

Prepare for the worst, even as we hope for the best

Showin' love to the plugs like a cocá connect

Open your chest like "Alien," choke you to death

Take the crown without ever having broken a sweat

The B-L-A-C-K S-T-A-R, slayin' the fake gods

Straight from the borough that make stars

Everything we spittin' is straight bars

We overcame great odds

I'm rockin' with the Bey like the Based God

That's accurate, nigga, do the math like an abacus

Or algebra, the lesson's translated from Arabic

The Gambler's Fallacy, the law of the averages

The champion sound vs the fall of the challengers

[Verse 5: Afrika]

Cut-cut-cut your nose off to spite your face

I got punchlines that hit below the waist

Fight or flight, looks like you're wearin' a cape

You're on the up and up, but it's goin' sideways

If you know that crime pays, here's an application

Money so tight, cuttin' off your circulation

Not a waitress, I don't take side orders

'Straight out the jungle, done by the forces

Hell or high waters, your socks are showing

Feeding off the crowd, they ain't got me going

You had a moment, put your foot on the brake

'Cause I'm not another sucker DJ, bars for days, with beer on tap

All these beats with my rhymes attached

Five thousand boomin' watts, sound system state of the art

[Verse 6: Busta Rhymes]

Now tell me who told y'all to let a motherfucker back on the block

Busta Rhymes the bully foot, park ship at the dock

I kill 'em 'til they all decay and eventually rot

Do not enter, store shut, bitch, I close every shop

Every time a nigga spit, I microphone 'em dumb

Alien bars, they still wonder where the drones is comin' from

Tuxedo on, when I pull up rockin' a cummerbund

Niggas pull up actin' all weird, now where you comin' from?

Nigga, sip whatever you want, I'm Wray and Nephew rum

Impossible to count niggas' pocket, what is you niggas, dumb?

I group up niggas in ten, attackin' all of 'em

And murk a couple niggas in groups, now what's the total sum?

My first album, "The Coming," and see I only come

I was inspired by Trill Burger, the homie Bun

You talk too much, lil' nigga, now you's a total bum

The first to franchise rapper fast food as the only one

[Outro: J. Rawls]

Yes, indeed

Maseo

Black Thought

Pos Plug Won

Mike G

Afrika

Busta Rhyme

Talib Kweli

J. Rawls

The Confidence of Knowing