[Verse 1 – Lupe Fiasco:]
Lord have Murcielagos waiting on the nigga
At the end when the time come
Get the drop on the weed spot
Like there’s too much water in the tea pot, huh
Lord have Murcielagos on the poor, nigga, pour, nigga
They adore the event of war
Down force on the doors of adored niggas
Does the Lord like to thank award winners?
And the war winners’ll rewards inner
Or the all-enders ain’t the pure chemists
So the form in this can be raw in this like the porn business
Keen to king ’til the, ’til the pawn hit us
If he goes, half a million sold, sold the soul, going gold
In the end will it go to the pawn business?
You ain’t doing nothing with it
Let a nigga get it for the low-low-low-low
Lames tried to form it, brains couldn’t storm it like a Ororo-ro-ro-ro-ro-ro
In the Philippines eating chicken wings, smothered with adobo-dobo-dobo-do
Vatos, fiascos, vocos locos like a cho-lo-lo-lo
Gadget go, go, go, go, go
Ratchet ho, ho, ho, ho, ho
Santa ho, ho, ho, ho, ho
K-Ci, Jo-Jo-Jo-Jo-Jo
Brown skin brother in a fed box at the hell lil’ nigga live there for months
Except these young, black males wouldn’t drive if you give them trucks
Nigga, nigga, nigga what
I don’t give a, give a, give a, fuck
With a, with a, with a mind full of money, pockets full of nothing
Niggas gonna feel what a nigga feel
Always been a winner ever since beginner
All the way to the end and never ever been a pussy
[Hook x4 – Billy Blue:]
Pussy nigga, pussy pussy nigga, pussy pussy nigga get fucked
Real nigga, Twitter, what?
[Verse 2 – Lupe Fiasco:]
Lord, please keep these diablo niggas off a nigga mind
Lord, please keep these diablo niggas off a nigga spine
Lord, please keep me Fiasco outta rest of these nigga lie
These nigga lie, these nigga lie, these nigga lie, these nigga lie
Lord, please forgive me for the sinning
Sinning please forgive me for the snitching to the Lord
Openin’ for businesses to the ribbon niggas wanting to get in, open up the doors
Son wanna feel ’em, open up the ceiling
Niggas start tripping, open up the floor
Trap like Indiana Jones looking for a map
That I sketched on the back on one of my raps under my hat
Coffin is the cousin to the bed that’s under my back
Dream so real niggas die taking one of my naps
Mattress full of money, monster under that sheets full of raps
Comfort for the weak, sleep for the whack
Party while you slumber, tell ’em money coming, jump in my sack
Niggas wanna exercise, exercise I-X-I ain’t no jumpin’ my jack
If I lift an arm I’mma lift a car, nigga, that’s a gun in my lap
Hurdle to the tire, chariots of fire
I’m a flyer, take you under my flap
Is he going nuts? Is he going bolts?
No, going both running my track
Nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga what
I just figure, figure, figure you gon’ be a nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga what
And since niggas is faster than them white folks on the tracks
White folks tightrope, like both, I could be a sprintin’ nigga
Nik Wallenda, runnin’ over rap
I higher, higher wire, you a wire on a power pad running over that
Running over that, running over that, running over that, running over that
Five time winner, five-nine, fine line thinner
Einstein mind, mind bender
Fine dine, nine, wine, find cocaine in my mind’s antenna
Pussy!
[Hook]