Song Lyrics

The temperature got tempers flaring people sweat when the weather hot
They argue and they fret a lot then set up the plot
To whet up the block
Whether or not the blood is red up in the gutter
Music is my bread and butter
I got a show in Brooklyn cause the ghetto love us
Pulled up in Mtulu's truck I'm suited up I'm cool as f*ck
Security tripping on my baseball hat promoter knew what's up
Plus Chaps had on some denim shorts and white tee shirt and
I told the bouncer they being disrespectful 'cause like you we working
I ain't a custy or a patron and trust me no one would be paying
To come in this crusty ass club if I wasn't playing
He's like "I'll put you the f*ck out"
And when you put your word like that its like third strike black you struck out
His man tried to rush me from behind Chaps stuck out a size nine
Seen him trip face first into the line
Cats is cowards with no spine and they power tripping too
The next level is the violence so what why'all niggaz want to

[Chorus:]
Work it out
We should try to work it out
People lie, people cry, people die to work it out
Read the book, pray to god
Look inside to work it out
We should try to work it out
Yo what why'all ladies want to do
Work it out
To get fly she work it out
People lie, people cry, people die to work it out
Read the book, pray to god
Look inside to work it out
Show the love
Lose the hate
Work it out
Work it out

People placed in situations they can't take and what they facing
Is the trials and tribulations to make them say the Lord's forsaken them
Their loved ones intervening but they always blaming them
For problems they don't realize what they part is in creating them
Like men who so insecure think they women cheating on them
And women who think the proof that they man love them is they beating on them
Keep sleeping on them soon they partner creeping on them
Committing crimes of passion they in caskets mother weeping on them
With her head in her hands
There's only one thing that the dead understand that it's better to be alive
Now what you gonna do stick your head in the sand
You probably the type to fall for anything and take that instead of a stand
Now that's a mouse instead of a man
I cherish my role as the head of my fam
And on the road I meet incredible fans
I rock with singers an a DJ instead of a band we at a theatre near you
So what why'all niggaz want to do

[Chorus:]

Stay civilized when they try to kill my high I try to think through problems
Bring honesty to rap like Cam'ron brought the pink to Harlem
You could be on the brink to stardom and suddenly you sink to bottom
Tell the truth about the war and suddenly you linked Saddam
Hate the topic but the closet people get to patriotic
Is red bull white vodka mixed with the straight hypnotic
Paper prophets sell the revolution so they make a profit
Trust they got it fucked up with your taxes started making rockets
Take it off the top like politicians speaking proper diction
Stuffing dollars in they britches like they do a lotta stripping
Got the top position bitching about the quality of life
All that bullshit get exposed as soon as Kweli sees the mic
They cutting down the tree of life the sun rays is running out
The babies ain't eating right so the guns keep coming out
See how they play the streets an night slap the taste out your mouth
To show you what they work about
So what why'all niggaz want to do

[Chorus:]

Jonathan Rotem, Talib Kweli, Tony Cottrell, Tony L. Cottrell

The duration of Work It Out is 4:19 minutes and seconds.