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Author/Artist/Singer: Talib Kweli Hi Tek
Music Title/Track: Twice Inna Lifetime
Theme ID: 1504
Album: N/A


F/ Mos Def, Jane Doe, Punch, Words



[Talib Kweli]

Yo, we been through this before right? (Word, word...)So we

figurin', if we gonna do it, we gotta freak it, y'know what I'm sayin?

(True, true, true...)Cuz everything gotta go up from here, right?

So Hi-Tek, turn it up a notch...





[Jane Doe]

Hail Mary, 'matta fact hail Jane

Niggaz take my name in vain/vein like I was cocaine

My affirmations kill emcees like assasination

Bringin' you pain until you wish you had a vaccination

Or vaccine, I shine like Vaseline

Gas plays like petroleum, walk over them like linoleum

My vocab expand like a rubber band

Walkin' nekkid through the motherland, give the finger to my brotherman

Niggaz just don't understand my reasons, I transcend like season

And scar these rappers like legion

It's treason, my suspension attract attention

I'm ventin', givin' these chickenheads detention

Did I mention my name, yo, go by the Jane Doe

Drenched in Polo, chill downtown in Soho

You don't know, this is just half my potential

Check my credentials, come harder than sequential

It's essential, you listen, I drive, you a pedestrian

They bless me on the track cuz I attack wit' the estrogen

Rhyme against the best a men, Jane burn it up

When you hear it in the whip, tell your man to turn it up!



[Wordsworth]

Yo...get it...yo

Yo, we fortified live, supportin' allies

The wack is tryin' to shorten our lives, it sorta waters my eyes

But here is some'n the cryin' talk about

The verse on that cassette you and cousin fought about

That led to God and Satan's fallin' out

Encourage the liquor for those who ain't here that you pourin' out

On 3-way, your parents, preacher and spouse called my house

Revive or ruin, my theories of mics

Sony or Aiwa, black or white, I fit in all stereotypes

Search for a cast to plot, I make you a laughin' stock

So shook, I could walk a half a block and feel the aftershocks

Rain of acid drops, seek some help

Now don't rewind, get it the first time,

Shouldn't have to repeat myself

Eternally verbally, I have numbers, succumb to time outs

In rhyme bouts you'll dial 9, just to get a line out

Known fact or factors and non-rappers fractured

Results in more cast appearances than a hundred actors

Emcees I'm testin' like diseases injected in gerbils

Wordsworth, Kweli, Hi-Tek, Reflection Eternal..what...



[Talib Kweli]

My style high life like Fonz when I burn heads like a conk

Cuz niggaz front, when their chances get slim like Pharoahe Monch

Thinkin' they shits is heavy when they light like ilumination

Intellectual masturbation with premature ejaculation

I'm comin' cleaner than vaccinations

My fascination with character assassination,

Got these niggaz burnin' like sensation

We keep it hot like matches and on lock like latches

Wack emcees get they microphones snatched like Lee patches

So YOU GO! To every wack muthafucka that you know (Scram...)

My lyrics they get up in your genes/jeans like Parasucos

So there's no mystery about the father, niggaz is hot and bothered

Like the bitches that they are, takin' pictures with stars

And got 'em open, but after they little hopes and dreams get broken

Me and Hi-Tek, we live long and prosper like Vulcans

Think I'm jokin'?We both got sons, we make cream and break dreams

See through the fake schemes, wipin' your slate clean

Like a squeegee, we be lightin' shit up like phosphorus

Turnin' flamboyant niggaz anonymous, depressin' to optimus

You stoppin' us is preposterous, like an androgenous masohganist

You pickin' the wrong time, steppin' to me when I'm in my prime like Optimus

Transformin', from rookie of the year to veteran

Hip-hop is big business like Con Edison or medicine

But fuck it, they gonna let us in, or else we rush the door

I got to many reasons, save your 'whys' and 'what fors'



CHORUS:

[Kweli] This is twice inna lifetime so I'm lettin' you know (let 'em know,

yo!)

Blackstar, Wordsorth, Punchline and Jane Doe (yo!)

[Mos] Lyrical com-pete and WE emcee

We got the fortified five, exhibit level degree



[Punchline]

Check it...

I keep dough in my pocket while you follow the false prophet

Get deep like Islamics wrapped in a white garment

I touch topics that try to open up your optics

Vacate in the Tropics, you dodgin' bullets in the projects

Cut the nonsense, I'm hotter than alot a men

Start honorin', got more wifeys than Solomon

Fuck the squad you in, a-yo we be the biddomb

Regardless what I spit on, you worse with the tracks I shit on

Once you get on, it's fair you can't trust (Yes!)

Words & Punch, make rappers march like the third month

I build with friends, lyrically spit gems

Call me diamond, cuz I'm your girl's best friend

Emcees are born losers, alcoholic abusers

I'll go on the radio and start a gay rumor

And then I'll talk about how the crowd tried to boo ya

Label shoot ya, stressed out with brain tumors

My gat claps, 50% of the wack

Take it back to real rap, Krylons wit' the fat cap

Get robbed for your ASCAP, leave you inside

Fortified live, reppin' NY 'til I die!



[Mos Def]

Black body radiation situation that we workin' wit'

My verb exists enlisted by the bogeys campin' services

The purpose is, make you go and purchase this, no nervousness

We are, hot like black tar, Black Star with emergerence

Superlative, you fabricated like the word absurditive

I'm rockin this from here to where the purges live

To Brooklyn where the merchants live

Next door to the murderers

And bourbon is a elder man's medicinal alternative

My memory is furnished with, back streets to back seats to fat Jeeps

Legendary athletes who play by the trash heap

My crew wasn't that deep, but beef we didn't act sweet

Treadin' on these stompin grounds you better catch some black feet

Flashy, it was between DeKalb and Pulasky

Off the meter like an out of borough taxi

They run your pockets fastly, black and nasty, nappy and crafty

And SWAT are either sittin' in Clinton or Kaksaki

Man Rudolph can screw off!You too soft to stop us

You and your coppers should see some foot doctors

Got your burnt chest popped up, but keep your guns cocked up

Cuz all them cats that you knocked up and always gon' be locked up

Hide yaself like Donna Summer, another number one

And comin' from the underground, this is how it's comin' down

Baby let me run it down,

Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Jane Doe, Punch, Wor.. umm..E!

Excuse me!Just ate another emcee!

Sometimes that's just how it be

Partner wash you down with green tea and some lime

We like the five on the fist, fortified organized like DIS!


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