Talib Kweli - Outside The Lounge (feat. Shabaam Sahdeeq, WiseGuy, Building Block, Mr. Metaphor & Lilscienz) Lyrics
[Lilscienz]Yo, freestyles, reside to the e-ventuallyYou might see me, kick the spreeGet the tape in the Benzi boxUp in club spotsOn a regular baseAnytime and placeWhat? Like Janet, I slam kidsHarder than Sha-quille O'neal down to the massesI take crews back to, um, hiphop classesBecause they didn't surpass thisWe reside actually, acrobatically, yo...[???]Came and burn me if you spit words in flame from your brain(What?) Rugged terrain, style insane, you's the lame(Huh) Freestyle or written strictly shittin on emceesDrop these, mad degrees on emceesEveryday, everynightYou fight for the mic, but you can't handle itI dismantle it, bust you in your head with itYou know you can't spit it like I spit itYeah you shit it in the toilet bowlYou know I got nuff soulY'all control the core cipherYou know we drop this, and got emcees following like the Pied PiperYou know we hyper, so...[Wiseguy]Yo, yo, yo; can I get a chance to drop in the cipher?Set the shit on fireYo why the, beats stop?I don't know the beat-box is coming inGot you counting from on to tenAnd by the time you get up to nine, your ass is left behindCause you can't mess with the lyrical master rhymesSend niggaz to pass the time, coming off the mind or the brainCan't maintain I'm type strangeAnd ill, in the mind of Wiseguy, that's rightI'm the baddest on the mic, I'm average heightGot a huge appetite, sorda like Iron MikeCept I don't bite, I just fight, with raps all rightUse the left and the right, recite styles is hype off the topPardon me but stop the beat-boxCause yo I got beats son(Aw word?) (Aight) My bad, I didn't mean to kill that shit.(That's alright,man, y'know what'm sayin?)[Talib Kweli]The beats is always love, y'know what'm sayin?niggaz always show love with the beats.(My little yellow box, always come in handy) Y'know what'm sayin?Yo, this is like a whack emcees nightmare, y'know what'm sayin?Thats why I'm right here, y'know what'm sayin?*beat comes in*Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo; My name is Kweli, from the EternallyReflection, spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee*aside* Yo, wassup y'all, wassup y'all, Im doin thisI love the rush that I get seein a whack emcee's bottom lip quiverHe know he gettin smacked for every whack rhyme he deliverWhether in allies or back streets, or the stairwell to Fat BeatsI come off like the ink that be staining my hands in rap sheetsWith lyrics stronger than Samson, to send Marilyn Mansonback to Hell, the resurrection of Fred HamptonYou can tell by the way your shit swelled and lump upWhenever punks jump upThey get down, for thinking they Bone creeping on a come upNow I got one up, but we much more than crabs in apparelOr fags who rap about apparel with an outlook that's mad narrowWe civilized, so on the microphone we vilifyFor proving that the niggaz with skills is still alive(Still alive) (Still alive) (Still alive)[Shabaam Shadeeq]Aiyyo, freak that, I'm leavin rappers hangin like kiddybacksOr hats on coat racks, I'm rough like porcupine backsSmack the emcees that lack, but, yo, they knew thatLike the flute blew through that, with nothing but factsDeejays cut the wax, snare sharp like axMic acrobatics and writing the star staticFrom basement to attic, get smacked, act dramaticI had it with some of these fake rhyming ass faggotsWho Shabaam Shadeeq they ass, make it blastStone for cast, whiplash like car crash, black flagFor emcees that multiply, act bad, make you thinkin your rhyme badGot all the skills you wish you had, dreams you hadScorch that ass and make you take the words backTo the foundation of that whack verse creationDouble S, who wan' test? smash your face in[Building Block]Yeah, yo, yo; my shops cop ?more neath?Things in caster rockAnd get you open with the combination, like master lockLet it be known, that none could ever pass the Blockand when the spot get blown, I hit you with the ?yeah, first shot?Traffic stop when I'm jammin, cause I got more back than gammonSlammin those that oppose my flow like salmonFoes be standing clear, cause, yo, they can't compareThe only thing that could hang in hear is a chandelierThis man could care less what them say, kick it like sensaiThen stay, on your mind like Ash on a WednesdayHe at a loss style, got no cause to smileI toss that ass all across, kinda like a foster child[Mr. Metaphor]It's Mr. Metaphor, everybody gather roundLive in stereo sound and very profoundDeeper than a burial ground, I'm aerial bound and shuttinComped down as I rock like Charles DuttonFrom Gangster Putnam I cut em from every angleFar from a square cause I wreck when I tangleMinds I mangle, mic's I strangle in advanceIn every circumstance I leave you shook like turbulenceYou'll never get this, I'm up in that ass like a tetanus?Master these? rhymes and drop more lines than TetrisI'm sicker than asbestos, spraying rhymes like aspesticidesBest to step aside, realize who the best is[Lilscienz]One two, one twoThe Scienz of Life, we ?X? to New JeruOne two, one twoYeah, the Scienz of Life, we ?X? to New JeruYo, let's go back like ?Gilda Masheviks?With phat challenging methodsThe rhythm stays energeticThe pen's motions kineticSee Heaven sent styles, bless the ears of my peersEven older heads get contactedFrom bomb tacticExploding in your nearest tabernacle, Holy like KadeshHTM, bow lyricistsYou feel it in your chest son, like that Nine EtherSound right, reasin em, pleasin em through the speakerFor years and years mad heads doubted meThen I changed hiphop, into new-op, its best described as alchemyThe scientist, applying this throughout the globalI stays universal with the vocalAttracting your focal points with each joint performed at live showsWhile Lilsci' verbally fly with dime flowsMy mind grows, being divine, strolls, by the MasterOne verse could cause cataclysmic disasterBut the truth hurts to be murder with spoken wordsProfound sound all in your sectionNo questionThe Scienz of Life, don't confuse itAiyyo if it don't sound right than it ain't music*indistinct chatter by emcees overlapped by security guard saying:*Alright, alright fellas, fellas, fellas, fellas, hold on, hold on,hold up a secondYou guys, you guys can't be making this noisewith the music and everything.(Aw, come on!)You gotta leave this area.I gotta clear this spot.(We gotta go inside right now) So get on line.(We got tickets)So get on line (We got tickets)Alright, alright, you gonna get, you got ticketsso get on line, and get out of this area.The line is over there.(We were just doing our thing)Its all good, its all good.Get on line, alright.(Whatever, whatever) Little youngsters.
