[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