The Roots:Rhymes and Ammo

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“Rhymes and Ammo”
Artist: The Roots
Albums: Phrenology (2002)
Lyricists: Black Thought
Talib Kweli

[Chorus: Black Thought]
A'yo when I say pump that, y'all say shit up
Pump that! (Shit up)
Pump that! (Shit up)
When I say stand up, y'all say get up
Stand up! (Get Up)
Stand up! (Get Up)
When I say rise up, y'all say now
Rise up! (Now)
Rise up! (Now)
When I say lick a shot, say blaow
Lick a shot! (blaow)
Lick a shot! (blaow)

[Verse 1: Black Thought]
A'yo everybody on they jawns
Cartoons is hardcore porn
It ain't no after school paper routes and mowin lawns
Kids got backpacks full of yayo and heroin
Coming to school shootin up the auditorium
Yo its anthrax maniacs on the TV
The least of y'all worries should be Thought's CD
The chairman of the board coppin twice weekly
They done caught the minister with a pork b.l.t.
If my shit ain't hot, it probably try to drop me
Psyche, its somethin I can never let myself see
Can't see, I'm thoroughbred, nothin fancy
Remain calm, no matter what the circumstance be
Its the principle, pillowcase full of nickels
Smacked like I mid-kicked dude, leave him crippled
Keep talkin greasey I'ma big lip you
A'yo your man'll can get slid with you
You and the squad takin to galoshes
I hold the engineer for hostage
and spit from a dirty cartridge
Its L for whoever try to front on Thought's shit
I'm sendin them goons to your mom's apartment


[Verse 2: Black Thought]
Countries at war little kids cry rape
God dammit, the ghetto is the Planet of the Apes
Massive meltdown, bring in the red tape
The cinder block shoes at the bottom of the lake
I'm from the city of sin, the state of the art
Use the notebook and the pen for makin' a mark
I love the game, ??clubber lame??, hit em with the gutter slang
Y'all brothas is sane but I'm another thang
The track bang like your baby mother very horny
To put it to y'all chumps is so corny
My name, Black Thought the one person army
All the intellectuals and the thugs adore me
My lyrical range, from complex to strange
Is wreckin your brain when the rhyme touch the chain
Hip-hop fiends gather they arms to catch a vein
Emcees scared to death wishin they never came


[Verse 3: Talib Kweli]
Kweli, sittin back in the cut like Reese
In a constant peace, call me fantastic like I cut the grease
Baracudas movin and canoein sippin amaretto
I'm a ruler of my temple, what I do to instrumentals
Instrumentals is the development of these niggas mentals
Tears in your eyes like this moment is sentimental
Your fundamentally floored, philosophically bored
Disturbed like the eighth floor of your hospital ward
You've GOT to appoint niggas to raise the bar
Muslims praise Allah, Christians praise the God
Rastas, they say Jah
They find a way to rhyme with the pallet like fine wine
and make you say ahhh
Guess who's back?
The game needed improvement
Can't fit the bullshit no more, you sound stupid
I'm a shark in the water with constant movement
influenced by music since a truant yo
This is how we do it yo

[Chorus x2]