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Lyrics365 > Lupe Fiasco > Galveston

Galveston

"Galveston" Lyrics by Lupe Fiasco

Expect to take my place, spotter take my weight

What dominates my dates now contemplates its fate

Forced to be entrepreneurial, historically entrepreneurial

Along with authority there is a funeral

So let the poetry go with the burial

Charcoal shade skin creature

They’ll bleach you when they see a color like synesthesia

From the inner reaches to a nigga features, rejoice (Galveston)

Feel a shockwave from my choice

When you not slave, you can hear it at the top octave of my voice (Huh)

There’s a rebone connected to my mesone

I need some freedom connected to my fee bone

I need to celebrate with a T-bone connected to my T-bone

An ottoman to put my feet on and a porch to sip my tea on

Blessings got me destined, I ain’t blinded no more

Blessings got me destined, I ain’t blinded no more

B— B— Blessings got me destined, I ain’t blinded no more

Blessings got me destined, I ain’t blinded no more

And there’s a rebone connected to my mesone

I need some freedom connected to my fee bone

I want to celebrate with a T-bone connected to my T-bone

With an ottoman to put my feet on and a porch to sip my tea on, really hope so

In the aftermath of after masters

Hang the skeletons from the rafters

Hang like pelicans around the bathtubs

Stain like accelerants after arsons

Dark as carbon, in droves

The part that gardens for the park apartments

From the garbage, into the

Third heaven of the nation’s millennium general assembly energy

Entity, liberty on a killin’ spree

Feelin’ glee underneath the drillin’ tree

On Jupiter Hammon and Phyllis Whe’

Make a heart melt and a skillet breathe

Do a cakewalk around the guillotine

Rub a rattle snake until it’s giggling

But you can’t rest so peaceful

Indentured servants is gonna shine and deceitful protect your people

And that finesse there is so lethal

Jim Crow bust like Desert Eagles

Gon’ come back ’round like extra sequels

And it’s all gon’ be legal (Galveston)

Birthplace, Ghost Town

Day of the dead, prayers are said

In the form of a hoedown

French-fried ’til they golden brown

Triple Ks, brown gold vers’ white sheets

Poltergeist get exorcised on the nineteenth

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