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    PLAY

    [Talib Kweli]
    Turn me up, turn me up, turn me up, what
    Turn me up, turn me up, turn me up, what (yeah)
    Turn me up, turn me up, turn me up, what (yeah, what, yeah, uh)

    Pack your cannons we outlandishly brandish the weapons
    Meet Jamaican like you god {U-god?} and 'em handing you lessons
    We learn a lot from the 60's like glaring 13 necks
    Mainly the niggaz get shot for flaring out their larynx
    And get to speakin' on a conditions of black people
    that's illegal they enforce it with the force that's lethal
    make you wanna grab a gun and throw the all black gear on
    head to congress exercising your constitutional right to bear arms
    leather jackets and glasses and you can tell it's us
    the FBI probably bust a nut if we self destruct
    call it militant but ain't nobody killing Barry {Goldwater}
    you can't be militant if you ain't got no military
    but it's still a very powerful word
    picture some niggaz with guns, got 'em very disturbed, word
    now-a-days you could get shot for a cheap necklace
    back then my people bust shots for the free breakfast

    [Hook]
    now before you see God, or stand before Allah
    you could learn from the stars that fall outta the sky
    everybody act hard, like they got no regard
    so we mourn falling stars, they still living all hard

    (we still here, word)
    this is for Medgar Evers, Martin, and my brother Malcom
    sometimes we be sittin and wishing for another outcome
    my head be spinning, it be full of why's and the how come's
    the value of life is so cheap if your skin ain't talcum
    we need leaders, we looking at entertainers
    it's about the cash, so we respect the biggest gainers
    niggaz get paid then they run away from the community
    that ain't gangsta nigga, you the opposite of Huey P
    don't be confusing me with haters, player
    get your paper, just show respect to the folks who made you (yeah)
    blessed by the creator so give money nigga
    just don't bring a plate of food around a hungry nigga
    out on these streets the police is killing
    I'm spilling out my heart on these beats so I can feed my children (yeah)
    disrespect and I'm a give you a bar to save your life
    because we don't need no more fallen stars

    [Hook]

    stalk the stage with the pride of the panther
    hands off Asada and the blood of a dance floor
    word, rock on, throw the Tupac on
    he's not gone, you hear his influence in pop songs
    shine brighter than those Vegas lights
    illuminating that Vegas night to the party after the fight
    'til the gunshots disturb the peace like Luda
    too bad he ain't a white chick in Aruba
    they'd have a whole department dedicated to finding the killer
    you'd see Afeni Shakur on Larry King, and motherfucking Dennis Miller
    word, Bill O'Reilly would be flapping his gums
    how much respect do they have for my people?
    actually none
    you either do the nigga packing a gun who hate niggaz
    even though every time he pass a mirror he staring at one
    my man stressed 'cause of lack of funds
    this the type of shit that make you wanna drown your liver
    and blacken your lungs

    [Hook] x3

    [spoken]
    now of course this was inspired by Tupac Shakur
    Eazy-E, still here (still here)
    my man Justo (still here)
    Big L (still here)
    Big Pun (still here)
    I'm from Brooklyn, you know what I'm saying
    Brooklyn know a lot about tragedy
    we lost our Big Poppa and our baby girl
    that was our whole world, yo (still here)
    this is for our fallen stars
    inspired by the poets, revolutionaries, and activists
    from the generation before us
    come and do our thing on this microphone
    when else in the history of this country
    can a black man get on the microphone
    and say whatever the hell he wanna say?
    it's a lot of responsibility
    but we standing on the shoulders of our ancestors
    so I bear that burden, throw it on my back

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