Too Late
Reflection Eternal Lyrics


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Yo, when the bass thump, the place jump
Like it's way crunk, yeah
Fake punks get they face lumped
Sent to the most high, by the most fit
You gotta do, fuck that almost shit
The fam is close knit
You diggin', know the clock don't stop tickin'
Glocks still spittin', the whole block politickin'
Like presidents with they minds dead on arrival
Leaving no evidence of a struggle for survival
Songs relevant to the times like the psalms read in the Bible
Stepping to this leaves thoughts in your head 'it's suicidal'
It's the T to the A-L-I-B the deep rooter
Rolling with my wanna battle cats who chief buddha
And see through the overspecialized, underpressurized
No lie texturized, emcees who got the masses mesmerized
With empty rhetoric, they better quit
Niggas so hollow that they echo like sentiments

Nowadays rap artists coming half-hearted
Commercial like pop, or underground like black markets
Where were you the day hip-hop died?
Is it too early to mourn? Is it too late to ride?

Kwa is chillin', Tone is chillin'
What more can I say, we stay building
And make killings
Take children through the wilderness, by the hand
It's a great feeling, show 'em how to be a man
Exactly, pack trees in my khakis
My sound fat like a Neve while you thin like a Mackie
C'mon, shine so bright when I walk by
You got ta squint like the motherfucking sun in your eye
What! Say somethin, you stay frontin
It ain't nothing, let off like I'm big game hunting
Me and Tek stay way blunted
Wave running on beaches with white sand
With a slight tan
Smack the mic stand with my right hand
When I'm excited
Leave you so far in the dust that you forced to bite it
On fire like property lost to riots
Yo, ain't no stopping us when we all united

Nowadays rap artists coming half-hearted
Commercial like pop, or underground like black markets




Where were you the day hip-hop died?
Is it too early to mourn? Is it too late to ride?

Overall Meaning

The opening lines of Reflection Eternal's "Too Late" set the scene for a vibrant hip-hop track, with the bass thumping and the place jumping. The lyrics then turn to a warning for fake punks, who will get their face lumped, suggesting that violence is not far from the surface in this urban environment. The group proudly embraces its close-knit fam, while also being aware of the political decisions being made on the block. The image of presidents with their minds dead on arrival leaves no room for hope, and the rappers consider that their music might even be suicidal given the dire straits of the world around them. They want to see a new kind of hip hop emerge that is not half-hearted or commercial, and that can help to raise children and show them how to be men.


Line by Line Meaning

Yo, when the bass thump, the place jump Like it's way crunk, yeah Fake punks get they face lumped Sent to the most high, by the most fit
The bass in the music makes people get up and dance uncontrollably. Fake people who do not respect the true spirit of hip-hop get beat up and sent away by the higher powers.


You gotta do, fuck that almost shit The fam is close knit You diggin', know the clock don't stop tickin'
You have to give your all, never settle for mediocrity, and always work hard to be part of the true hip-hop community. The family is strong and united, and time keeps moving forward regardless of setbacks.


Glocks still spittin', the whole block politickin' Like presidents with they minds dead on arrival Leaving no evidence of a struggle for survival
Despite the violence and politics of the neighborhood, guns are still used and those in charge are apathetic. Disadvantaged people are forced to fight without leaving any evidence of the turmoil in the community.


Songs relevant to the times like the psalms read in the Bible Stepping to this leaves thoughts in your head 'it's suicidal'
The songs being played and created speak truth to the current times much like the psalms in the Bible. Trying to challenge this type of music and the ideas it promotes may lead to harm and mental distress.


It's the T to the A-L-I-B the deep rooter Rolling with my wanna battle cats who chief buddha And see through the overspecialized, underpressurized No lie texturized, emcees who got the masses mesmerized
My name is Talib, and I represent the true roots of hip-hop. I team up with those who want to fight for this culture and those who can see through the false promises of other rappers who lack passion or talent but still manage to attract many fans.


With empty rhetoric, they better quit Niggas so hollow that they echo like sentiments
Rappers who use repetitive and meaningless lyrics should stop and try to be more creative. They are so empty that they are like echoes, only repeating what has been said before.


Nowadays rap artists coming half-hearted Commercial like pop, or underground like black markets Where were you the day hip-hop died? Is it too early to mourn? Is it too late to ride?
Many current rappers are not giving it their all and producing music catered to making a profit. This is a betrayal to the true essence of hip-hop. It's hard to say whether it's still possible to save this culture or whether it's too late.


Kwa is chillin', Tone is chillin' What more can I say, we stay building And make killings
My friends Kwa and Tone are relaxed and comfortable. We continue to work together to create something meaningful, and it often brings us success.


Take children through the wilderness, by the hand It's a great feeling, show 'em how to be a man
We are leading the youth through hard times and helping them become better people. It is a rewarding experience to guide someone through their life journey into adulthood.


Exactly, pack trees in my khakis My sound fat like a Neve while you thin like a Mackie C'mon, shine so bright when I walk by You got ta squint like the motherfucking sun in your eye
That's right, I always have weed on me. My music sounds rich and full, while yours sounds thin and unimpressive. I make such an impact that my presence alone demands attention.


What! Say somethin, you stay frontin It ain't nothing, let off like I'm big game hunting Me and Tek stay way blunted Wave running on beaches with white sand With a slight tan
Go ahead and speak up if you have an issue with me, don't just pretend to be something you're not. It's nothing to me, and I let my words be like the shots I fire when I'm hunting big game. My friend Tek and I are always smoking weed and living life by the beach with a nice tan.


Smack the mic stand with my right hand When I'm excited Leave you so far in the dust that you forced to bite it On fire like property lost to riots Yo, ain't no stopping us when we all united
I hit the mic stand with my hand when I'm feeling hype. I leave other rappers so far behind that they become just dust. I'm so amazing that I set things on fire like a riot, and when we are all working together, nothing can stop us.




Lyrics © BMG Rights Management
Written by: Talib Kweli Greene, Tony Cottrell

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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