Artist: Talib Kweli Album: Gravitas Song: Inner Monologue Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Intro] Remember, whatever discipline you're in Whether you're a musician or a photographer, a fine artist or a cartoonist A writer, a dancer, a singer, a designer Whatever you do, you have one thing that's unique You have the ability, to make art {*echoes*} Sometimes life is hard, things go wrong In life, and in love and in business and in friendship, and in health And when things get tough, this is what you should do Make, good, art [Talib Kweli] Microphone check one-two one-two (c'mon!) Microphone check one-two one-two (uh) We got a little warm-up Just a little bit, just warm up a little bit Microphone, mic, mic, c'mon! Microphone check one-two one-two (c'mon!) Microphone check (uh) one-two one-two Yeah! (I think it's time) This 'bout to be the realest shit you ever heard I lynch rappers, got them hangin on my every word These bitch rappers be claimin they slingin heavy word Really snitch rappers, niggaz singin like every bird Rich rappers, nah I don't know them niggaz Niggaz don't get rich rappin, they sellin clothes or liquor My flow is sicker cause I flow with vigor I'm no beginner, peep the whole agenda Control my center cause I gravitate with +Gravitas+, this my inner monologue Burnin down your party cause our cocktails is molotov My crime mob make you stop, lock and drop, don't get wollywop'd Actually battery in my back, like a copper top Got it poppin, started on the B-side of "Body Rock" Direct to fan, I'm runnin my shop, like a mom-and-pop Modern-day slavery today to be an artist, watch They treat 'em like a product and try to mount like a hot and tot These molly pop, niggaz not carin if they body rot Partyin like Mardi Gras, get the cream like Häagen-Dazs Golly gosh, this is Utopia, cornucopia I'm known to start revolts against the Romans like Zenobia Hopin to keep copin copious amounts of opiates Tried to start a union but they blocked me like a Soviet I hope they get it, I'm sick of explainin history I'm rollin with a circle of winners, we claimin victories It ain't a mystery, the hate'll make it bittersweet They hate when I engage to debate 'em like Wale's Twitter feed Who I'm kidding? I'm the great debater My crew stay winnin, we stay innovative Your circle is rotten as great tomatoes They get high with you then start dry snitchin like José Canseco Prosecco, I'm sippin vino with a vivid hue Haberdasher rockin Borsalinos like Hasidic Jews Pitiful, rappers never stand up to the ridicule That's why I had to get at you, wear it if it fit the shoe, nigga [Interlude: unknown singer] + (Talib Kweli) Baby just shine your light... (microphone check one-two one-two) Shine your light (microphone check one-two one-two, uh) Baby just shine your light... shine your light If you've gotta dim yours, so they can shine brighter Just stay bright (microphone check one-two one-two) So shine your liiiiiight (microphone check one-two one-two, uh) Baby just shine your light... shine your light If you've gotta dim yours, so they can shine brighter Just stay bright (microphone check one-two one-two) So shine your liiiiiight (microphone check one-two one-two, uh) Baby just shine your light... shine your light If you've gotta dim yours, so they can shine brighter Just stay bright (microphone check one-two one-two) So shine your liiiiiight (microphone check one-two one-two, uh) Baby just shine your light... [Outro - over Interlude] We're in a transitional world right now Because the nature of distribution is changing The distribution channel's the people that built over the last century or so are in flux For print, for visual artists, for musicians Which is on the one hand intimidating, and on the other immensely liberating The rules, the assumptions, the "now we're supposed to's" of how you get your work seen And what you do then... they're breaking down... The gatekeepers are leaving their gates You can be as creative as you need to be, to get your work seen The old rules are crumbling Nobody knows what the new rules are So make up your own rules