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 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 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, confronted the Rolling with Hi Tek in the MPV through the streets of the Natti

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 solid 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 sons

was liking to call you son

Cause you mine I call you son cause you shine

What's up [?], 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 sound common

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