Lupe Fiasco - Lupe Back lyrics
Yield, to the forces of darkness I bring you the torches of our sh** Reinforced with hardness of Wolverines Arms with the harshness and overall sharpness Now how far do the arms get? My n***a, from the stars to the starfish From the baby to the bomb Its a whole lot of light and a whole lot of armlift My arms long, but Im lawless A strong arm, I can lift up all this You gon have to build a bigger farm for us To keep them wolves out of Old MacDonald barn, b**h Yeah, Team Jacob Were long armed, put my arms on a lear Everytime I put my hands in the air Watch the throne as I dance in the chair Throw my crown in the crowd, hope it lands on the heir The weak n***as like to pa** interfere Spend a lot of lint over jams in the year That act like the man up in here That dont count when your only real fan is a mirror Thats subliminal to any n***a that he feel he is too But you dont stand a chance, playa I am there, Chi-Town, fan of the Bears Love where they dance in the square Yeah, Yankees too, but only cause Granderson there And now wears khaki pants on La Brea We all friends, why your man lookin scared? Turning whiter than Anderson hair Came out the garage like he saw a phantom in there, huh Oh sh** alert, Louis clothes Callin women b**hes, Louboutin and Gucci shows Well, I guess there goes my Louis shows More o sh**, if your role models a movie role And if you live your life like its a studio Talkin to us like we mics, a bunch of you aint do befo Electric fences for a urinal Also keep a toaster in my jacuzzi, yo Shock-a-zulu, call me Wasalu II Oh sh**, man these record labels prostitute you Strap them to sushi bars, and feed em lots of fugu Catch a bad piece You can stick that 360 between your a**cheeks Artists lets mobilize and unionize like the athletes Radio is making our craft weak Forced to repeat the same dumb sh** that work Only as hot as your last beat And rappers, they relating to that last piece Album never leave they desk if you dont got no B.D.S Sacrifice your publishin, they said you really need a hook And they aint gon pay you, said that you received a look And whats stupid real, is what producers feel Twenty placements or you stuck in that producer deal And R&B chicks so get it the wildest All they money goes to hairdressers and stylists Gotta keep up with that image Label lose they mind if they ever see a blemish ProActiv impeals, airbrushers and trainers Managers suggest you f** a n***a to be famous, huh But its all entertainment Wonder when Cobain blew out his brains, did he blame it? And if those snakes in the industry helped him aim it Started pressing up records before the bullet left the chamber I fight evil, everyday Im livin Rest in peace to men, women and the children And middle fingers to the Pilgrims that k**ed em Friend of the People, happy Thanksgiving