Artist: Talib Kweli & Styles P
Album:  The Seven
Song:   Poets & Gangstas
Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com 

[Intro]
The number 7 is the seeker, the thinker, the searcher of truth
The Seven doesn't take anything at face value
It is always trying to understand the underlying hidden truth
The Seven knows that nothing is exactly as it seems
and that reality is often hidden behind illusions... {*echoes*}

[Talib] + (Styles)
Yeah (it's that Kweli/Ghost shit right here)
You're not ready (get your bars up niggaz)
Let the games (we here) begin (hahaha)
It's "The Seven"

[Talib Kweli]
Welcome to the conscious of the nation on hard beats
I rap to my heartbeat, keepin time as my feet hit the concrete
These dark streets, blacker than the color of charred beef
The dark meat fallin off like the flesh of a zombie
This freedom, that they dangle in front of us like some car keys
Snatch it back and peel out like a car thief
I'm sharper than shark's teeth, they prayin cause the bars is godly
I'm a +Black Star+ like Marcus Garvey
I'm rockin with Styles P, the Ghost, cause most these rappers is mouthy
Firewater got 'em feenin like alkies
The streets need a mouthpiece
My niggaz is just tryin to live, no I ain't talkin Sundays on South Beach
I'm talkin some days the fridge is empty as the shelves in bodegas
that only sell weed, coke and cigars with the flavors
As far as the neighbors, we at each other's throats for the paper
The government gangster, so people put they hope in a savior - nope

[Chorus: Talib Kweli]
Now this that shit that you ain't know that you need
The gangstas and the poets, yeah we know what it be
Plantin these fields of reality, we sowin the seeds
There's no games like Atari cause we not playin with niggaz
Now this that shit that you ain't know that you need
Grow somethin, smoke somethin cause we rollin the trees
I got the Ghost as a quarterback, he throw it to me
It's +No Games+ like Serani cause we not playin with niggaz

[Styles P]
Wanna chat with Ghost, fuck a Ouija, only +board+ you need is the engineer's
Armageddon and Venom here
Lyrical warfare, dies if you send 'em here
MC graveyard the lyrical pallbearer
Could hold scythe{?}, if I'm there I bet you the Lord hear us
Or maybe the angels, maybe a few demons
Channel my ancestors when doin my deep breathin
The light from the darkness givin the mic spark
With deep soul, deep brain wave and an ice heart
Get the weed in the paper and watch how the flight start
But, you should get away if ever the fight start
One love but first blood drawer to get it drawn from me
They gon' throw the peace sign but bet you they put the horns to me
Yeah I drop science of writin in Orion
On the ride with God, but he lettin me co-pilot
Jet until I die if you ever to profile him
Ghost

[Chorus]

[Talib Kweli]
Niggaz, sell they souls to Mephistopheles
Fuck the fourth estate cause the devil got a monopoly
Egyptology the philosophy, fuck Socrates
How you, possibly stoppin me when you flow so sloppily?
Rappers, try to copy me just to prove they a man to me
Just a fan to me, standin right under the Kweli canopy
(It's nice here) Protected from ego and vanity
These culture vultures claim they like rap but be actin like Sean Hannity
Understandin me?

[Styles P]
Architect the anarchy, insanity
Humble but I'm feignin in vanity, pain-bringer to families
That boy is a rapper, he dead, understandin me?
Protocol, call all the pros that be flowin I'll embarrass them
Rollin down my lane like a bowling ball
No one know nothin, still in awe, I'm a know-it-all
Know I kill these rappers, fuck if I know 'em y'all
Ghost and Kweli, this is MC glowin y'all

[Chorus]

[Outro: Talib Kweli]
Oh we not playin
Trust, trust, trust