Holy Moly Lyrics - Ear Drum - Talib Kweli

Yeah, as a kid growin' up in Brooklyn 

My pops was a DJ, he had a bunch of records 

Funk, jazz, rhythm and blues, soul, you know what I'm sayin'? 

There was this one gospel record I liked like, like 

Like holy moly, I might get some religion and leave you holy, holy 

Yeah, this rhyme is so fat, it's roly poly 

I give you intimate details so you can get to know me 

These corporate rappers like, "Why this dude pickin' on me?" 

You rap your way to the top but now it's gettin' lonely 

Kids is hungry and you lookin' like a steak from Nick & Tony's 

But don't nobody want your jewels 'cause your shit is phony 

Say word? Your shit is real? Damn, your shit is corny 

Rhymes turn a new page like Mark Foley 

And touch kids like when Larry Clark gave the part to Chloe 

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Rest in peace to Harold Hunter, the greatest from New York 

Started out skatin' for Zoo York, word 

Hangin' out at The Gavin, I was very lucky 

To talk to Rash' once I got past Derek Dudley 

Got him on respiration, that's pre-Badu 

Bet you Garnett Reid got a Matt Doo tattoo 

Sometimes I feel like I'm drownin', I gotta tread water 

Head above the water, I always remember headquarters 

Heads up, eyes open, I got my mind focused 

I find hope inside a line, my rhymes define opus 

Sometimes hopeless people fill my thoughts with evil 

My record so hard it broke the needle 

At the Mixtape Awards niggaz act like they don't give a fuck though 

And disrespect the legacy of Justo 

What the blood claat? No, let the blood flow 

You ain't come to pay your respect, then what you come fo'? 

Photos 

Too many good niggaz die, it's like a stop loss 

Hood niggaz ghetto like fried wings and hot sauce 

How you hard? The cops lettin' 50 shots off 

Baby Jay-Z's with the knockoff Scott Storch beat 

You are not Short, you are not Katt 

You're not a player or a pimp, money stop that 

Learn to master your speech and be eloquent 

Rappers keep peddlin' sweets, the beats weaker than gelatin 

We used to kick up dust, now we settlin' 

Rest in peace to Dilla, Weldon, we can't forget you 

Professor X and Proof we miss you, word 

Rest in peace to Shaka, 21 gun salute 

In the air like blak, blak, blak 

You're still here 'cause you're livin' through me 

You're like a gift God has given to me, what?