Twice Inna Lifetime

Lyrics

[Intro: Talib Kweli, (Hi-Tek)] Yo, we been through this before, right? (Word, word) So we figured, if we gon' do it, we gotta freak it You know what I'm sayin? (True, true, true) 'Cause, everythin' gotta go up from here, right? (Yo, no doubt) So, Hi-Tek, turn it up a notch [Verse 1: Jane Doe, (Talib Kweli)] Hail Mary — matter fact, hail Jane Niggas take my name in vain, like I was cocaine My affirmations kill MC's like assassination Bringin' you pain 'til you wish you had a vaccination Or vaccine, I shine like Vaseline Gas players like petroleum, walk over 'em like linoleum My vocab expand like a rubber band Walkin' naked through the Motherland Give the finger to my brotherman Niggas just don't understand my reasons I transcend like season, and scar these rappers like Legion (What?) 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 'cause I attack wit' the estrogen Rhyme against the best of men, Jane burn it up! When you hear it in the whip, tell your man to turn it up! [Verse 2: Wordsworth, (Punchline)] Yo, gimme – yo! Yo, we "Fortified Live," supportin' allies The wack is tryna shorten our lives (Word), it sorta waters my eyes But here's somethin' to cry and talk about (What up?) The verse on that cassette you and your cousin fought about That led to God and Satan's fallin' out (Word) Encouraged the liquor for those who ain't here that you pourin' out (Uh) A three-way – your parents, preacher, and spouse called my house Revive or ruin, my theories of mics (What?) Sony or Aiwa, black or white, I fit in all stereo-types (Word) Search for a casket plot – I'll 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 (Not at all) 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 – more cast appearances than a hundred actors MC's I'm testin', like diseases injected in gerbils Wordsworth, Kweli, Hi-Tek, Reflection Eternal – what! [Verse 3: Talib Kweli] My style highlights like fonts, when I burn heads like a conk 'Cause niggas front When they chances get slim like Pharoahe Monch Thinkin' they shits is heavy when they light like illumination Intellectual masturbation with premature ejaculation I'm comin' cleaner than vaccinations My fascination with character assassination Got these niggas burnin' like sensation We keep it hot like matches, and on-lock like latches Wack MC's get they microphones snatched like (Like what?) Lee patches So you go! To every wack muthafucka that you know (Scram!) My lyrics, they get up in your jeans like Parasucos So there's no mystery about the father Niggas is hot and bothered, like the bitches that they are Takin' pictures with stars, it 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'? (Nah...) 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 niggas anonymous, depressin' an optimist You stoppin' us is preposterous, like an androgynous misogynist 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 too many reasons, save your "why?"s and "what for?"s [Chorus: Talib Kweli, Mos Def & (Hi-Tek)] This is twice in a lifetime, so I'm lettin' you know (Let 'em know, yo!) Black Star, Wordsworth, Punchline, and Jane Doe (Yo!) Lyrical company and we emcee We got the fortified five, exhibit levels degree [Verse 4: Punchline] Check it – I keep dough in my pocket, while you follow the false profit (Yo) 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 a lot of men Start honorin', got more wifeys than Solomon Fuck the squad you in! Aiyyo, we be the bidd-omb Regardless what I spit on, you worship the tracks that I shit on Once you get on, it's fam you can't trust (What?) (Yes!) Words and Punch make rappers March like the third month I build with friends, lyrically spit gems Call me Diamond, 'cause I'm your girl's best friend MC's 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 screwed ya, stressed out with brain tumors My gat claps 50% of the wack Take it back to real rap, Krylons with the fat cap Get robbed for your ASCAP, leave you one side Fortified live, reppin' NY 'til I die (What!) [Verse 5: Mos Def] Black body radiation, situation that we workin' with My verbiage just enlisted by the focused camera surfaces The purpose is–make 'em go and purchase this, no nervousness We are hot like black tar, Black Star with the merger, it's Superlative, you fabricated like the word "absurditive" I'm rockin' this from here to where the Persians live From Brooklyn where the merchants live Next door to the murderers And bourbon is a elder man's medicinal alternative (Ha!) My memory is furnished with Back streets, to back seats, to phat Jeeps (Remember that?) Legendary athletes who played by the trash heap (Whew!) My crew wasn't that deep, but beef?! We didn't act sweet Treadin' on these stompin' grounds, you're bound to catch some black feet "Fa-La-Lashe," it was between De Kalb and Pulaski Off the meter like a out-of-borough taxi They'd run your pockets fastly! Black and nasty, nappy and crafty (Uh!) That's why they either sittin' in Clinton or Coxsackie Mayor Rudolph can screw off! You're too soft to stop us (Crossdressin'-ass nigga!) You and your coppers should see some foot doctors Got your bird chest popped up, but keep your guns cocked up 'Cause all them cats you knocked up Ain't always gon' be locked up Givin' you "Hot Stuff" like Donna Summer, another #1'er Comin' from the underground, this is how it's comin' down Baby, let me run it down! Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Jane Doe, Punch, Word... {*ahem*} re– Excuse me! Just ate another MC Sometimes, that's just how it be! Partner, wash it down with green tea and some lime We like the five on the fist, fortified organized like this!