Rare Portraits

Gravitas, light it up
 Lighten it up, brighten it up, yea
 You want the grown step your bars up
 You brag about the scrilla them killas lighten your cars up
 Welcome to the complete history of the one known as Talib Kweli
 Such a blessing, I'm making the bread leven
 Descendant of Terra Firma
 I'm from the era of legend
 The blind to my eyesight
 Too scared of the world ending
 My men of spiritual essence be walking right into heaven
 Ascending without the stairs, expressing without the fears
 We diamonds but our minds are corrupted just like De Beers
 Unravelling minds, travelling through time like langoliers
 Standing with the flow like the man in the gondolier
 In the park of Washington Square, locks in my hair
 Louder than the bull horns we was locking 'em there
 Cops would prepare to lock us up
 They was scared like tales from the dark side
 Summer of the Central Park five
 1989 was the number, the year that I started rhyming
 From Brooklyn to Staten Island them Decepticons was wildin'
 Music soothing but the imagery violent as bomb threats
 Therapy for the prison industrial complex
 Provided the context for the crime with the tec nine
 At Brooklyn Tech I spit it the best so they had to respect mine
 I did it to death on my grind on a quest to get signed
 Sorta like the tribe would always suggest we check the rhyme
 An internal with Puff Daddy, in front of the buffed patio
 Rolling with Hi Tek in the MPV through the streets of the 'Nati
 Before graduating to Caddies was carrying crates
 Shoutout to Flex all day doing records with John Forte
 We was standing outside the tower devouring prey
 Powerful display of bullet points that we shower and spray the block with
 Back in them salad days these rappers was appetizers
 I played it like I was David, I was tackling that Goliath
 Attacking the open mics to the victory was decisive
 This life it was so enticing, my surgery so precise
 I would chop it like thin slices at parties we politic
 At the country club, lighting up dutches with Pac and Big
 At the crib of supernatural battling back and forth
 Back before Jean was in the unsigned hype in the back of The Source
 Rest in peace to Allah's sons
 Shabba was liking to call you son
 Cause you mine I call you son cause you shine
 What's up Alyasha, this is OG Brooklyn shit
 Not for impostors, pour out a shot of vodka for them
 Big L, Big Poppa, Big Pun, 2Pac
 The jungle is too savage, rap true master producing the new classic
 This shit is too classic it's blow to [?] to spinal tap
 I started with the Rawkus Recording we work the vinyl backwards
 From DEF JUX to Loaded Lux
 I'm the underground king like I'm rolling with Bun and [?]
 The flow is nuts it's solid I got the golden touch
 Plus my iron sheek and I got the game and the cobra clutch
 This the highest calibre do the algebra
 From Yasiin Bey to Jean Grey to Pharoahe Monch
 Black Thought to Common
 Almost 20 years after the release of Soundbombing
 And it still sounds timeless
 I'm out and on tour with the greatest, A Tribe Called Quest
 And the De La's, opened for Jay Z and Nas, who else could say this?
 In Vegas with Tech 9 getting faded before the gig
 Only later to hit the RIO and hop on the stage with Prince
 True story, I always knew the importance of great shows
 Since 1992 I seen Ice Cube play [?], way cold
 Continue to pave the road for the Kendricks and J Coles
 Continue to stake gold
 From making the way for Kanye to meetings with Mr. Harry Belafonte
 All started on park benches with Dante
 Predicting the future, so observant I'm clairvoyant
 The frame can't contain it, I'm painting a rare portrait