Talib Kweli, Kardinal Offishall - Murderous lyrics

Murderous!
Kardinal Offishall and Talib Kweli
With a new syllabus
T dot, BK stand the fuck up let’s go
Black Jays it’s Kardinal Offishall my niggas
Black Jays is the team

The fireman fire starter rocks harder
Lyrical jihad shit hard living
On the boulevard
First hand man with a plan stand up!
Get the fuck out your Benz
Clean your third eye lens
Got signed Carties still living in the hood
Fucked up the industry like it’s all good
Ever since I came out and rocked the party
Every blood clot rapper want
Anyways, in many ways we display shit
That’s hard to look at like ultraviolet rays
I stays clean, never fiend for the green
If it fucks with my Lou
Black Jays makes a scene
Easy we breeze through your hood
Mixtapes to passport
Eat whack niggas for sport
Since the days of jam sports me and
The plan gave up the hoes, I don’t fuck fans
But, I fuck with ‘em though, let ‘em know
T dot coming for the
Title destroying in stereo
Mono mono e mono mind
Your brain get throttled
21 and over like a hennesey bottle
Me and Talib got dibs on the top spot
Air force ones fresh the colour of crack rock
Rocking your concrete sometime soon
Black Jays in your area hungry like noon
Muthafuckers

International collector of capital
Passport pay unnatural black radical
Chilling in Canada when I spit the flow
I get more chicks in Toronto
Than a Little X video
I cross the border with a bird or two
It’s personal I got a little
Merch in this commercial too
What you say perishable in
Court is inadmissible
Break it down everything you spit is bull
It’s pitiful to watch i stand out in a city
Full of hot young spinners
Blow the spot with the best of the T dot, yea
Kweli and Kardinal rock with the official
We sharper when we hit and can’t
Stop to blow a tissue
Doing way more than an’you
What I spit is finna split you in two
It really don’t matter how vocal is you
I’m not to be confused with those who know
Provoke the issue attack
I blast back like Africans in Mogadishu
In fact, our flashback’s bringing out the
Nat Turner in me
Where’s the people what’s the
Word in the street?
I smash king’s the man atop of your throne
Your girl’s riding my poem
I’m like hip hop’s Oliver Stone
From the 718 where the trees grow leaves
To fall and change colours like the
You be lookin’ like a scene
Out a Spike Lee flick
You ain’t fucking with it
You ain’t tight we sick