[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