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    The Roots / Lyrics

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    "Rolling With Heat" Lyrics

    The Roots feat. Talib Kweli

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    Duration:00:03:43
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    Lyrics

    [Chorus: Kweli & Dice Raw]
    Downtown everybody move to the beat
    Uptown everybody moving the heat
    Cross-town the party where both sides meet
    Eastside, westside, there's always beef X2

    [Kweli]
    I tattoo the page with the permanent ink
    Mr. Rourke on your Fantasy Island
    The umbrella in your tropical drinks
    Still run it up it, liquor in your cup
    Fucking you up
    Hang over the banister
    You feel the rush of the blood going straight to your brain
    Ain't no love, you only love bringing hate to the game
    Taking my name in vain, mistaking license for freedom
    He make music for the people, people dying to meet him
    People!
    We still abuse it, while the rich is made of music
    He probably driving a Buick and be rocking van--- ?
    G-U-E relevant, see how his man do it
    Fucking with niggas from illa fifth, see how we ran through it
    The river in the valley
    The nigga in the alley
    Rolling with the heat from BK to killer Cali
    The hands will fake the clapping
    You'll be collasping
    You softer than the land on legs
    Transforming the landscape
    Like a sandstorm in the Sahara
    I am the truest nigga
    I do more shows than The Roots to Carol Lewis
    Creative artist, never play the targets of game hunters
    You may want to test this product like cane smugglers
    Dis disco shit
    Popping like Crisco
    Hitting your face
    Spit in your face like pistol shit
    My style, wild like wipple whip

    I go back like a pistol grip
    It's pro-black, Kweli!

    [Chorus] w/o Kweli

    [Black Thought]
    I'm a FED like Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms
    Willy gank, spit the killer dank dialogue
    Pyro-maniac like Dr. Molotov
    I knock the bottle off
    And knock the model off
    Gots some non-believers here
    Some how I'll save y'all
    Or stop y'all worries, you makin me vexed
    Hit up gekko, this ain't got gold correct
    I'll fuck around and hit your body like ?
    Cuz you a toy not a soldier yet
    You better hold your neck
    You dick smokers get no respect
    With the blood, ice your watch, rock your rocks
    Better rock it on the screen and not the blocks
    Cuz them crews don't stop them shots
    It's so many that fly, they chase down, I just stop and watch
    I'm from the south side of philly, it's known to get gruesome
    Heavy hitter villians these alleyways produce them
    Heavy hitter on a pocket we find a way to juice them
    They may as well pay, schmuck
    Introducing the B-to L-A see me the king splitter
    Then analyze this dime, the main thing glitter
    Then analyze the taste in your mouth, it seem bitter
    Ganster, valid dick torian, graduate of I dare you
    If you are paper thin I'm a tear you
    I'm a come take care of you put a part in your hairdo
    You barking like I'm a starting to scare you
    But speak up like a man nigga so your body guards can hear you

    [Chorus] w/o Kweli
    This song was last modified on November 24th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC.
    Written by Ahmir Thompson, James Gray, Karl Jenkins, Talib Kweli, Terik Trotter.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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