Double Trouble - The Roots, Mos Def

We go wow, ba-da-da-dow-da-dah-dow

Either stand tall, or just sit the fuck down

All the way from the 2−1-5th to Bucktown

Brace yourself, it’s about to go down

(Runnin one-on-one, the only hip-hop band)

Yo Tariq (Whassup?) How your microphone sound?

(It sound tight) Well aight, show 'em what it’s about

We got to blow up the spot because they must have forget

We double (Trouble) bubble (Bubble) bubble, bubblin' hot

Well it’s like, smack the track up and leave dents in it

The vocalist, busting this blunt, instrument spit

The magnificent, rappers run from it

All fly girls' nipples and toes numb from it

MC’s in my circumference, is confronted son

Get your growth stunted from this, you don’t want it

(What nigga?) The Black Thought and M-O-S Def done it

Who the ultimate?

Yo my man speak upon it

Ayo, I stop fools and drop jewels but never run it

Rock mics so nice, I make you stock price plummet

All you high noon riders better rally at the summit

It’s me and Tariq and your fleet outnumbered

Cross the membrane, barking big game and get hunted

Eye witness account, say it happened so sudden

Just slid off to the side, didn’t really say nuttin

Then BLAOW, blew away the 1900th

You better get your rest cause the next day comin

Oh yes, and MCs, they scared to say sum’tin

Stop frontin, I’m in the cut just onlookin

Your get your kings, your rooks, rings and pawns tooken

Ayo, keep your tape rolling so you catch every bar

Of the Black Thought and the black man from Black Star

Illadelph and Vietnam, we conference, accomplish

Even with stakes inclined, I get mine regardless

Yo, a lot of Smurfette MCs carry purses

And rock uniforms that’s made for nurses

I burst your verses, your words is worthless

Only touching surface, the fuck’s the purpose?

I shot the sherriff, the deputy, and head of bank treasury

So mounties in the county got a big bounty stressin me

But tell 'em to hold off, they too short to measure me

Mos and Black Thought blast forth with the weaponry

Like blaow-ba-dow-da-da-dow-da-dah-dow

Either stand tall or sit the fuck down

All the way from the 2−1-5th to Bucktown

Brace yourself, it’s about to go down

Yo Tariq (Whassup?) How your microphone sound?

(It sound tight) Well aight, show 'em what it’s about

We got to blow up the spot because they must have forget

We double (Trouble) bubble (Bubble) bubble, bubblin' hot

Yeah, now check your stove top before you take a listen

And make sure beans don’t burn in the kitchen

These gassed-up niggas just ain’t fuel efficient

I play the winter breeze to choke hold your piston

Now you niggas can’t make pole position

Class E chassis can’t hold the transmission

Crew pit useless, they got they tools missing

Watch me, Grand Prix, champy for wealth driven

Yo, you go one for my hustle (Ha!) two to rock rhyme

From the muscle kid I’m one of the illest of all time

I swing from chandeliers and wall climb

And specialize in warfares of all kind

A lot of MCs said I’m a run it down rhyme

But half the time, they running down one of mine

Thought suffocating 'em with yet another stunning line

You dumb and blind kid, it’s enlarged and underlined

What I memorized leave your whole staff pressurized

Melt down all of your artificial lies

Y’all niggas is faker than Yellow No. 5

Swine like mono and diglyceride

My vocals got texture, you just texturized

I’m nicer than your writtens even when I’m improvised

Step into my zone get flown like fly

By the b-boy Lazarus who just won’t die

Yo, me and Kamal and Leonard Hubbard, Questlove and Malik

We go back to dollar hoagies and Tahitian Treat

Or like toast in the oven with government cheese bubbling

Me and Dante like Marvin, the trouble men travelling

Give me the mic, we on that again

B-boy business, off the top acting and battling

Serving them cats that forgot

But don’t get too close because you might get shot

Like blaow-ba-dow-da-da-dow-da-dah-dow

Either stand tall or sit the fuck down

All the way from the 2−1-5th to Bucktown

Brace yourself, it’s about to go down

Yo Tariq (Whassup?) How your microphone sound?

(It sound tight) Well aight, show 'em what it’s about

We got to blow up the spot because they must have forget

We double (Trouble) bubble (Bubble) bubble, bubblin' hot

We go blaow-ba-dow-da-da-dow-da-dah-dow

Either stand tall or sit the fuck down

All the way from the 2−1-5th to Bucktown

Went from Do You Want More!!!

to what you want now?

Yo Tariq (Whattup?) Well how your microphone sound?

(It sound tight) Well aight, show 'em what it’s about

We got to blow up the spot because they must have forget

We double (Trouble) bubble (Bubble) bubble, bubblin' hot

Say here’s a little story that must be told

About two young brothers who got so much soul

They taking total control, of the body and brain

Flying high in the sky on a lyrical plane

It’s just two bad brothers who will never quit

Mos Def and Tariq from the 2−1-5th

They rock beginning to end, on a spiritual blend

And everybody who forgot then baby tell 'em again

It’s just me and Tariq, with Ahmir on the beat

The Roots crew baby, yo, we got to make it unique

We got the soul-shockinest, body-rockinest

Non-stoppinest, Fortified Live survive the apocalypse

Rhymes we say, the perfect blend

Because we know how to rock when the beat come in

Like zen-zen-zen-zen-zen

Zen-zen-zen-zen-zen, zen-zen, zen-zen

Zen zen-zen, ZEN zen zen ZEN zen zen

Zen zen, ZEN zen zen-zen

Zen-zen-zen, ZEN zen ZEN zen

Here we go, here we, here we, here we go

Zen zen-zen, ZEN zen zen ZEN zen zen

Zen zen, ZEN zen zen-zen

Zen-zen-zen-zen-zen, zen-zen, zen-zen

Let the poppers pop, and the breakers break

Then zen-zen-zen-zen-zen

Zen-zen-zen-zen-zen, zen-zen, zen-zen

Two years ago, a friend of mine

Zen zen, ZEN zen, zen-zen zen-zen

Zen zen zen zen zen zen zen

And these are the zen zen zen zen