Guerilla Monsoon Rap (w Kweli, Black AThought, Pharaohe Monch)

Kanye West, cmon turn me up and
Black Thought, cmon turn me up and
Pharoahe Monch, cmon turn me up and
Talib Kweli in the house with
Guerrilla Monsoon rap - all the shorties like 'who dat?'
Got the whole crowd like 'how ya do dat?'
***** you, get smacked til ya blue black
And ya crew, give me dap like true dat
We come through and all the shorties like 'who dat?'
Got the whole crowd like 'how ya do dat?'
***** you, get smacked til ya blue black
And ya crew, give me dap like true dat
Yo, I hit these emcees with the grip of death like I was a Vulcan
Aint a lot of 'ifs' an 'ands', its just straight talkin
Its hard to swallow at times, so take portions
Bitin off more than you can chew, create orphans
Emcee species endangered like dolphins
Rappers is spittin nails into they own coffins (cmon)
Hear come the Dundee moves rocket-launchin (yeah)
Black Thought, quit playin him close and back up off him
Kweli -- spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee
The real emcee, that your favorite rapper used to be
One by one I knock em out like Schoolly D - my rhymes is eulogy
A flea could move a tree, before ya think ya movin me
I black and blue emcees - actin new to me , get smacked stupidly
They lack skills, like the black community lack unity (uh)
Still my rhymes hurt like Ali to Fraiz
Step off the stage to shouts of 'Kweli boomayyay!!'
See these four emcees came to get down
Rearrange the rap game, change ya whole sound
***** YOU, got ta, understand the plot ta
Movin and groovin and always improvin alot-ta
Ill outfox the, average Porsche Boxster talk
Break the bank on some old Frank Sinatra (New York...)
Slash Chi-Town, slash Philly
Check the blast from Geneva, you can get slapped silly
ye West]
Guerrilla Monsoon rap - all the shorties like 'who dat?'
Got the whole crowd like 'how ya do dat?'
***** you, get smacked til ya blue black
And ya crew , give me dap like true dat
We come through and all the shorties like 'who dat?'
Got the whole crowd like 'how ya do dat?'
***** you, get smacked til ya blue black
And ya crew, give me dap like true dat
Okay... my sound drenches, each of the five senses
And hold the shock value of electrified fences
Its truth or consequences, ride wit us or against us
Is you a dedicated soldier, or you a princess, dog?
Im in it to win it and not for the wealth
Got a crib with a Grammy and a gat on the shelf
Nan ***** competition, gotta battle myself
And me and Kweli on a mission, gettin Pharoahe for help
From natives walkin the Trail of Tears to players sippin Belvedere
We always comin well prepared, and all my dogs smellin fear
PLUS, even my ****** from the Bay, they say you hella scared
Truth or consequences, and all senses be well-aware
Your style - under-developed there, hell if I care
What hardship you claim to see, but I can tell by your stare
***** you fugazi, sayin ya crew blazin
Like sayin Miss Cleo is a true Jamaican, we makin
Guerrilla Monsoon rap, smell the fumes, get in tune wit it
When I attack your city, yall gon think Dr. Doom did it
Spit it like white trash in seed-spittin contests
With a vendetta that sent a betta letter bomb to Congress
Im pissed - cumulus clouds of ominous
Words of the Thor, the rawness thatll restore ya calmness
Unless, you wanna be leg and armless
Thats parapaleg for those who believe in bomb threats
Guerrilla Monsoon rap - all the shorties like 'who dat?'
Got the whole crowd like 'how ya do dat?'
***** you, get smacked til ya blue black
And ya crew, give me dap like true dat
We come through and all the shorties like 'who dat?'
Got the whole crowd like 'how ya do dat?'
***** you, get smacked til ya blue black
And ya crew, give me dap like true dat