Fallen Star

* Poems written by Shakur as ~ interpreted by other artists [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 niggas 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 niggas 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 Niggas 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 2Pac 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 niggas 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 2Pac 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