Testify (feat. Talib Kweli)

{"Testify!"}

[Styles P:]

Time I testify, listen

Why Malcolm get killed by the N.O.I.?

I'm yellow but I'm dark for real

And why nobody flip when Martin was killed?

Why Mandela did all them years

All that blood, all that sweat, and all them tears?

And I can name thousands more

that died in the struggle from Mr. Wallace to Mr. Shakur

That's why I stay influenced to "Kick in the Door"

Bring the White House dudes around the blacks that's poor

Notice that it's "unity" in "opportunity"

Make a lil' cash, now the block is screwin me

Brand new E-Class, cops pursuin me

Guess they wanna see me park it

Lookin at my gun, they wanna see me spark it

But I'm the Ghost and if I could vote it would be for Sharpton

Yeah~!

[Chorus:]

[S.P.:] {tes-ti-fy} [Kweli:] {tes-ti-fy} equality

{"Testify!"}

[S.P.:] {tes-ti-fy} [Kweli:] {tes-ti-fy} equality

[Talib Kweli:]

Yeah, yo, yo

We never stop like the news watch

Still tryin to fill the void of Biggie and Tupac

We on them avenues with the red and the blue tops

Dudes hot to shoot cops from the rooftops

Too many snitch niggaz TESTIFY

Warrior kings sent to the bing and left to die

Girls confuse sex with love so they extra dry

And got birth control stuck to they necks and thigh

Whoa, it ain't a game, they want the blacks all killed off

Our caps all peeled off, nigga this real talk

What's ill is y'all niggaz still caught up in them battle raps

There's beef in the hood, +Escaladin+ like Cadillacs

Monkey on your back livin like a junkie

Addicted to a dream, wanna die for your country

Tear down the prison walls, set everyone free

From freedom fighters to Askari X to Pimp C

[Chorus]

[Talib Kweli:]

Yeah... kids slip in the clip and aim

for the fortune cause the fame ain't shit to gain

They get stuck on whips and chains, so freedom slip they brain

And psychologically that shit's insane

Now that's crazy, a function of raisin the crack babies

Sell it back to them cats freebasin back in the 80's

(C'mon) Disco shit, nigga cock the toast

Hi-Tek on the track and we rock with the Ghost

[Styles P:]

Damn right I make gangster music

But I still spit poetry like Langston Hughes did

Pressures of the ghetto might make you lose it

Grab AK's and go and make the news kid

Might lose control, but not my soul

Won't sell for the white man to buy me some white gold

Sell for the black man, to buy me control

P, Tek and Kweli, the shit come from the soul y'know?

[Chorus]

[scatting to the end]