Work

[Intro]

[Verse 1: Black Thought]

Spectate. Cost a buck o'five, the net weight

The kid drummer, this will cave in your chestplate

It ain't just lines and hooks and fresh bait

Yo the bait hook lines for you all to congregate

Waiting to taste Philly's own fully grown

Rock stone trooper son to the bone the bone

You all done stumbled upon the computer code

Too raw for you to hold, too much to download

It's funny how the murder shit can sound beautiful

Pure trooper soul serious bait

We on some more talk for the hustle and beats to get sold

Move like a body got a mind of its own

Yo, I bang like them sheist niggas out in the cold

That will snatch niggas up right outside of their home

Yet still it's all a quality song, [?]

[?], yo everybody get zoned

Because it just ain't real without Roots crew in it

To black people getting money keep doing it

And to whoever will front you know what you can get

Uh get the fuck out of here with that stupid shit

[Hook: Leela James]

As time goes on, one thing is true

Soul is a treasure, it becomes a part of you

It controls your mind, both you and I

And it feels right, you want action

You're attracted to the big things

[Verse 2: Black Thought]

Yo I get stopped on the street a lot, people recognize me

Talking stalking walking right behind me

Some of them are genuine fans, some are slimy

Some be coming at me like "I'm ill nigga, sign me!"

Baiting me I'm waiting for you all to rhyme finely

Ask them to spit, their shit be like common

Nothing I can taste or feel type style

Up inside the studio contaminate the real

See you all make big mistakes for real. I tried to tell them in Clones

You can't sign from the next man's skill

I got style half sex appeal and half trife

My voice is like a soul nigga on a bagpipe

Before we got on stage and got things hype

You was boring the crowd performing the last rites

Now let me show you how this shit is done

It's Black Thought and Questlove on the drum, he the big one

And you about to be the victim, because Mars dog

Murking with the ham and he thirsty to hit son

It ain't nothing but rhymes and ammunition

For all y'all dopes with hopes and ambitions

Of knocking me off and trying to take my position

Stop wishing and sit your ass back and listen

To the yo you rocking with the number one best

No one for contest. Come on, work

[Hook: Leela James]

[Verse 3: Black Thought]

Yo I want action baby black cherry Cadillac traction

Smack shit up you won't know what the fuck happened

Thug, you light on the thug and heavy on the passion

In South Philly son there's heavy gun traffic

Yo I got seven joints, every one a classic sound

Down for the long stretch like elastic

Catch this, if I'm in the box selling blast or shot

My thing is pro hip hop and pro blackness

The whole block got straps and throwbacks

But yo sometimes it just contributes to the madness

We live around wild hazards. The bait is

Like a magnet and grown ass kids they want to have it

Their hearts pumping overactive in front of their eyes

It's so elaborate, ghetto melodramatic

Yo I lift it up and come through in the clutch

But y'all came here to do it or what? I keep telling you that

It just ain't real without Roots crew in it

To black people getting money keep doing it

And to whoever will front you know what you can get

Uh get the fuck out of here with that stupid shit

[Hook: Leela James]