The Alchemist, Blu, Evidence, Talib Kweli, Kid Cudi - Therapy

1: Evidence] Dear People, it's a minute since I checked in Record's still spinning where I left it I done a lot since I seen you last, shit moving fast The world got itself in a real hurry Still I tell 'em: worst come, don't worry I bought that crib with the dough you left me Then hit the plane toured the world So bills made the first with rock babs and Al right beside me Life is poison, it's ivy I ain't speaking on yours, that's how mine be He ain't lying, eachI write the next minute of your life Flow's ghetto the hood's my lively Good health, yeah yeah to that Another year in the black, so many years in the red I was losing my mind, I was up on my game Right person, wrong place, just ahead of my time and it's mine Where do we go? Where do we go? Where do we go when we're losing our minds? Where should I go? Where should I go? Where should I go when I'm losing my mind? Where do we go? Where do we go? Where do we go when we're losing our minds... minds? This is our therapy 2: Blu] Dear People, been a minute since I checked in Mention, checking mics, collecting checks but kept the step in Stepped in with Ex but had to "X" a couple best friends Who let ends be the reason I left them The left wing of the west wing Venom in them cobras when the wind blows Been on it since the moment rain was pouring out my window I danced in it, in my b-boy stance Standing in the midst kicking stanzas to chicks Till they dance too Cool as a fan, too, student of the true school Catch me in a band and a gang calling plays Play da fool I make the rules Call it lame but it's the law Play the war yet whenever they play the song y'all get loose Off the juice, busting hard earned bars to scar loots Scarred youth, my heart's firm y'all are saw truth Gol-Lee, cross-breed between Spike, God, and Bruce When I'm kicking it, they're wondering if God's talking to Blu but it's... 3: Talib Kweli] Dear People, on the corner's where the evil Created a share of the drama That got the tears from your mama Hittin' the steps of the steeple Livin' unfair and unequal Lies to the afterlife this here, you ain't prepared for the sequel These rappers is see-through and transparent This man's spirit deal with advanced lyrics They can't hear it, I can't bear it, I can't wear it It's trash, it's lyrical masturbation I'm not making a fashion statement Youris doctored I call 'em quacks they lacking patience They just want they validation, congratulations Try walking the streets till four in the morning Looking for rappers to battle feeling like you'd die if you ignore your calling Then hop on a greyhound, LA-bound Perform in the club while they busting shots, stay down Got it for the cause, just because they clap don't mean that you need the applause Dear People, sincerely yours