Outside the LoungeTalib Kweli

[Lilscienz]
Yo, freestyles, Lil Sci to the e-ventually
You might see me, kick a free
Get the tape in the Benzi box
Up in club spots
On a regular base
Anytime and place
What? Like Janet
I slam kids
Harder than Shaquille O'Neal down to the masses
I take crews back to, um, hip-hop classes
Because they didn't surpass this
We reside actually, acrobatically, yo...

[Shabaam Shadeeq]
Come and burn me if you spit words of flame from your brain
(What?) Rugged terrain, style insane, you's the lame
(Huh) Freestyle or written strictly shittin' on emcees
Drop these mad degrees on emcees
Everyday, every night
You fight for the mic, but you can't handle it
I dismantle it, bust you in your head with it
You know you can't spit it like I spit it
Yeah you shit it in the toilet bowl
You know I got nuff soul
Y'all control the core cipher
You know we drop this, and got emcees following like the Pied Piper
You know we hyper, so...

[Wiseguy]
Yo, yo, yo; can I get a chance to drop in the cipher?
Set the shit on fire
Yo why the, beat stop?
I don't know, the beat-box is coming in
Got you counting from one to ten
And by the time you get up to nine, your ass is left behind
Cause you can't mess with the lyrical master rhymes
Slay niggas to pass the time, coming off the mind or the brain
Can't maintain, I'm type strange
And ill, in the mind of Wiseguy, that's right
I'm the baddest on the mic, I'm average height
Got a huge appetite, sorta like Iron Mike
'Cept I don't bite, I just fight, with raps I write
Use the left and the right, recite styles that's hype off the top
Pardon me but stop the beat-box
Cause yo I got beats son
(Aw word?) (Aight) My bad, I didn't mean to kill that shit. (That's alright
Man, y'know what'm sayin?)

[Talib Kweli]
The beats is always love, y'know what I'm sayin'?
Niggas always show love with the beats
(My little yellow box, always come in handy) Y'know what I'm sayin'?
Yo, this is like a wack emcee's nightmare, y'know what I'm sayin'?
Thats why I'm right here, y'know what I'm sayin'?
*beat comes in*

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
My name's Kweli, from the Eternally
Reflection, spruce to the tree, Bruce to the Lee
*aside* Yo, wassup y'all, wassup y'all
Im doin this
I love the rush that I get seein' a wack emcee's bottom lip quiver
He know he gettin' smacked for every wack rhyme he deliver
Whether in alleys or back streets or the stairwell to Fat Beats
I come off like the ink that be staining my hand and rap sheets
With lyrics stronger than Samson, to send Marilyn Manson back to Hell
The resurrection of Fred Hampton
You can tell by the way your shit swelled and lump up
Whenever punks jump up
They get beat down, for thinking they Bone, creeping on a come up
Now I got one up
Are we much more than crabs in a barrel
Or fags who rap about apparel with an outlook that's mad narrow?
We civilized, so on the microphone we vilify
For proving that the niggas with skills is still alive

(Still alive) (Still alive) (Still alive)

[Shabaam Shadeeq]
A-yo
Freak that, I'm leavin' rappers hangin' like cave bats
Or hats on coat racks, I'm rough like porcupine backs
Smacks the emcees that lack, but, yo, they knew that
Like the flute, blew through that, with nothing but facts
DJ's cut the wax, snare sharp like ax
Mic apparatus invited to start static
From basement to attic, get smacked, act dramatic
I had it with some of these fake rhyming ass faggots
"Who Shabaam Shadeeq?" they ask, mega blast
Storm forecast, whiplash like car crash
Black Flag for emcees that multiply
Act bad, make you dig in your rhyme bag
Got all the skills you wish you had, dreams you had
Scorch that ass and make you take the words back
To the foundation of that whack verse creation
Double S, who wan' test? smash your face in

[Building Block]
Yeah, yo, yo; my shops got more Needful
Things than Castle Rock
And get you open with the combination, like master lock
Let it be known, that none could ever pass the Block
And when the spot get blown, I hit you with the aftershock
Traffic stop when I'm jammin, cause I got more back than gammon
Slammin those that oppose my flow like salmon
Foes be standing clear, cause, yo, they can't compare
The only thing that could hang in here is a chandelier
This man could care less what them say, kick it like sensai
Then stay, on your mind like Ash on a Wednesday
He at a loss style, got no cause to smile
I toss that ass all across town like a foster child

[Mr. Metaphor]
It's Mr. Metaphor, everybody gather 'round
Live in stereo sound and very profound
Deeper than a burial ground, I'm aerial bound and shuttin'
Comp down as I rock like Charles Dutton
From Kings to Putnam, I cut 'em from every angle
Far from a square cause I wreck when I tangle
Minds I mangle, mics I strangle in advance
In any circumstance I leave you shook like turbulence
You'll never get this, I'm up in that ass like a tetanus
Met twist rhymes and drop more lines than Tetris
I'm sicker than asbestos, spraying rhymes like a pesticide
Best to step aside, realize who the best is

[Lilscienz]
One two, one two
The Scienz of Life, BX to New Jeruz
One two, one two
Yeah, the Scienz of Life, BX to New Jeruz
Yo, let's go back like Gilgamesh epics
With fact-challenging methods
The rhythm stays energetic
The pen's motions kinetic
See Heaven sent styles, bless the ears of my peers
Even older heads get contacted
From bomb tactic
Exploding in your nearest tabernacle, Holy like Kadesh
HTM, bow lyricists
You feel it in your chest son, like that Nine Ether
Sound right, reasin em, pleasin em through the speaker
For years and years mad heads doubted me
Then I changed hiphop, into new-op, its best described as alchemy
The scientist, applying this throughout the global
I stays universal with the vocal
Attracting your focal points with each joint performed at live shows
While Lilsci' verbally fly with dime flows
My mind grows, being divine, strolls, by the Master
One verse could cause cataclysmic disaster
But the truth hurts to be murder with spoken words
Profound sound all in your section
No question
The Scienz of Life, don't confuse it
Aiyyo if it don't sound right than it ain't music

*indistinct chatter by emcees overlapped by security guard saying:*
Alright, alright fellas, fellas, fellas, fellas, hold on, hold on
Hold up a second
You guys, you guys can't be making this noise
With the music and everything. (Aw, come on!)
You gotta leave this area. I gotta clear this spot
(We gotta go inside right now) So get on line. (We got tickets)
So get on line (We got tickets)
Alright, alright, you gonna get, you got tickets
So get on line, and get out of this area
The line is over there. (We were just doing our thing)
Its all good, its all good. Get on line, alright
(Whatever, whatever) Little youngsters