Talib Kweli - Work it Out lyrics

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Talib Kweli - Work it Out lyrics

[Verse 1: Talib Kweli] The temperature got tempers flaring People sweat when the weather hot They argue and they fret a lot Then set up the plot to whet up the block Whether or not the blood is red up in the gutter Music is my bread and bu*ter I got a show in Brooklyn cause the ghetto love us Pulled up in Mtulu's truck I'm suited up I'm cool as f** Security tripping on my baseball hat Promoter knew what's up Plus Chaps had on some denim shorts and white tee shirt and I told the bouncer they being disrespectful cause like you we working I ain't a custy or a patron and Trust me no one would be paying to come in this crusty a** club if I ain't playing He's like "I'll put you the f** out" And when you put your words like that its like third strike black you struck out His man tried to rush me from behind Chaps stuck out a size nine Seen him trip face first into the line Cats is cowards with no spine and they power tripping too The next level is the violence So what y'all n***as wanna do [Hook] Work it out We should try to work it out People lie, people cry, people die to work it out Read a book, pray to God Look inside to work it out We should try to work it out Yo what y'all ladies wanna do Work it out To get fly she work it out People lie, people cry, people die to work it out Read a book, pray to god Look inside to work it out Show the love Lose the hate Work it out Work it out [Verse 2: Talib Kweli] People placed in situations They can't take and what they facing Is the trials and tribulations to make them say the lords forsaken them Their loved ones intervening but they always end up blaming them For problems they don't realize what they part is in creating them Like men who so insecure think they women cheating on them And women who think the proof that they man love them is they beating on them Keep sleeping on them soon they partner creeping on them Committing crimes of pa**ion they in caskets mother weeping on them With her head in her hands there's only one thing that the dead understand That it's better to be alive Now what you gonna do stick your head in the sand You probably the type to fall for anything and take that instead of a stand Now that's a mouse instead of a man I cherish my role as the head of my fam And on the road I meet incredible fans I rock with singers an a DJ instead of a band We at a theatre near you So what y'all n***as wanna do [Hook] [Verse 3: Talib Kweli] Stay civilized when they try to k** my high I try to think through problems Bring honesty to rap like Cam'ron brought the pink to Harlem You could be on the brink to stardom and suddenly you sink to bottom Tell the truth about the war and suddenly you linked Saddam Hate the topic but the closet people get to patriotic Is red bull white vodka mixed with the straight hypnotic Paper prophets sell the revolution so they make a profit Trust they got it f**ed up with your taxes started making rockets Take it off the top like politicians speaking proper diction Stuffing dollars in they britches like they do a lotta stripping Got the top position b**hing about the quality of life All that bullsh** get exposed as soon as Kweli sees the mic They cutting down the tree of life The sun rays is running out The babies ain't eating right The guns stay coming out See how they play the streets an night slap the taste out your mouth To show you what they work about So what y'all n***as wanna do [Hook]