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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
The Roots
Performer
Common
Vocals
Leonard Hubbard
Bass Guitar
Black Thought
Vocals
Kamal Gray
Keyboards
Questlove
Drums
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Lonnie Lynn
Songwriter
Leonard Hubbard
Songwriter
Tarik Trotter
Songwriter
Marion Lewis
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Bob Power
Mixing Engineer
Richard Nichols
Mixing Engineer
Kelo
Mixing Engineer
Chaos
Mixing Engineer
Paul Smith
Recording Engineer
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
featuring Common
Intro: Common
Yeah, U.N.I.Verse
at war
U.N.I.Verse (when you and I verse)
at war motherf**ker
We gonna do this Chi-town style (verse at war)
Illadelph, you know how we get down
You know the business (Illtown illanoid)
Yessah, hah, yeah (preacher man with the Com)
Bringin it straight to your chest (comin thru with the iller category)
Break it down one two (we about to drop a bomb, check it)
Chorus: 2X
When you and I verse at war (U.N.I.Verse at War)
And your verse at core, for what you thought before
Steppin up into a zone you should never explore
The next level or, level of the whole conceptor
Verse One:
Check it, rappers
Get on the mic talk about cars and clothes
Sounding like hoes
Ain't been exposed to the foes of most disciples
I'm from the state that is Ill, the rap son of man
Rotated down to Phil, to say what I feel
War, going on between the West and the East
Get it off my burnt chest, my word becomes flesh
of the land, niggaz don't own a piece
Grease is the word, Murray slides some pimp oil to me
Throw your hands in the air, if you the true and living
My lady friend sneaks my beer in the movie
Beware, the new world order, the devil's new religion
Sent my homey to the number two division
Sellin bootleg movies, got my VCR on a evasive maneuver
at a table with sophisticated bitches
Be that as I chooses, drinkin tropical it's just sittin
Nah that ain't nothin I would call my mother
Nor do I call every nigga my brother
Gotta have Black Thought, it's sorta B like Malik
So don't Question a Brother, to the Roots I get deep
Verse Two:
Yo, enter the last era
and mascara, we operate within this artificial op-era
Your scholarship into the world of politics
I bring hip-hop terror like the Fuhrer
The Ace Ventura into the horror
Laboratory laborer, venture beyond the border
I'll struc-ture a style destroy your whole aura
Plus you're a-drenalin'll rise before your eyes
and mortalize, my image hit the skies
Deceive the devil in disguise
My music I parenthesize
Kid no compromise (yeah, yeah) I'm thinkin fast like drama
Represent the wise, do this be how we enterprise
Dyin I wear your mind away like Alzheimer
I pull a mic up out my bomber big up to Bahama
The A-O this year we leavin em in trauma
Then after me, I plan to leave behind, the legacy
or history of the family, the fifth dynasty
For humanity, to bear witness to this
Del-val-syllable stylist
You know the time kid
Chorus 2X
Verse Three:
Yo, the general flows, kids compose on tablet
Expose how they was average and they thoughts not rapid
Here comes the hot package, through your block like traffic
The rock was typed graphic now watch the mic blast it
See the mirror shatter from thoughts, I'm bustin back at it
Shootin at the stars with emphatic rap static
The Lieuten-ant, the ele-phant, sippin automatic
Mic, rippin asiatic, architects out to have it
The turn of the century, the planet's like a penitentiary
exaggerated, niggaz is livin highly medicated
Hip-hop holocaust and camps, old champs are concentrated
I Used to Love but now she violated
They outdated and incarcerated
Loved and appreciated hated and very debated
And that's the way the balance of yin and yang related
For every career created was eliminated
Verse Four: Common
As the block is de-vine
Niggaz swing on in a safari
Wild niggaz, like I'm high on latari
Some let the block block they mind if they could see what I see
Hey, I'ma be back on the deck, opening
Get out the city for a sec be at the places I be
My, neck of the woods ain't all good ain't all bad
Business in places for you to cash your check
The sad part about it niggaz had houses on the lake
You can live in the burbs, and still get had
They tryin to move us out, the land we ain't appreciate
Call each other 'cause cause of how we relate
For peace we skate, crackers we roll or player hate
I see way too many Cadillacs with dope man plates
Through the wind and blow-ups, is how niggaz communicate
Harmonizing through beeper and reefer
The city got my peoples in a sleeper, talk is getting cheaper
Chorus 4X
Writer(s): Tarik L. Collins, Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Mel Lewis
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com