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Lyrics365 > Lupe Fiasco > Steve Jobs: SLR 3 1/2

Steve Jobs: SLR 3 1/2

"Steve Jobs: SLR 3 1/2" Lyrics by Lupe Fiasco

Say yeah, ‘Trakk!

I apologize man, it was last minute

So me ask for this in advance

SLR, yeah

Said they lean on me

Niggas tried to dream on me

Told that nigga he can lean on me

Fall asleep and have a dream on me

Nigga, yeah yeah yeah yeah

You see, it takes niggas weeks

They need a comfort zone and some beats

Lollygaggers to poly matters that go over responses

Get all layered and get technical in they content

Press record, then I bring the receipts

Lambda lambda lambda, I think that shit was sweet

I wish I could just kiss you on the cheek

Nerds have they hands in everything

Gangsters won’t even touch the police

Won’t you tell your niggas get that

Take some of those cool fullies and go and get some of our shit back

Your problem is you ain’t never have no impact

Kit-Kats and chit-chats and syntax won’t make up for how much you sit back

I think that nigga scared

He never leave Heaven ’cause he already dead

Damn, nigga are you insane?

What’s the point in knowing how to point and aim

If the niggas you gon’ bang look exactly the same?

That ain’t motherfucking cool, that’s a motherfucking shame

This ain’t no motherfucking game

That’s why I think you are a motherfucking lame

We both wear glasses, the difference is

I was in school thinking it was cool, you was thinking of skipping classes

Listening to your track record, I could see you were skipping classics

I did it on my first one and delivered to the masses

Your songs are immemorable, your verses are impenetrable

I ain’t even listen to that diss record

I only fuck with you cause of your interviews

I ain’t even trip when you called me a bitch

I was like, “Look at Salem, calling me a witch”

Look at how they made him, look how much they gave him

Look at all the assists, nigga, if it wasn’t for Premier

You wouldn’t be, if it wasn’t for, if it wasn’t for

If it wasn’t for, if it wasn’t for, nigga, I got a dozen more

Hov think I’m Hov, Nas think I’m Nas

That’s the trick, you ain’t gotta think when niggas already think you are

Muah!

Your story crooked and your book too, pass the dumb shit

But you would shoot somebody’s sun holding Sun Chips

I wish they would’ve left Biz here, and fucking took you

And all your hyper-technical hypotheticals

In life, I’ve never met with you, from a distance, I accepted you

From the podcast, I been kind of skeptical

This ain’t our first clash, this is just one of the several

I ain’t trying to bash but it was like you was off your schedule

You was throwing more than jabs, I was like, “This nigga’s incredible”

We had to fucking edit you

I don’t know what vegan Detroit vegetable Dr. Sebi diet infected you

To think that we share the same metrics or somehow I was less than you

And I was the type of nigga that you could get really disrespectful to

I ain’t never lectured you, I get energetic and joke

But in real talk nigga, I ain’t never disrespected you

I’ma punch you in your fucking face and we all think it’s silly

I’m thinking like “Won’t this bitch nigga clean up his fucking city?”

I mean you got all of the clout, know how to bring all the niggas out

You can walk the walk, I mean we seen you walk all over your house

But me and Mickey is geeks, because you got some heat

Like I didn’t go to the closet and put guns all over the couch

Your mental health hotline, I think that shit is grown up

But you’re the very last nigga that should be picking that phone up

I spit your verse to get immersed inside my enemy

And to remind you nigga, I got to go through you just to get to me

Subtle subordination

Perpetual sidekick, nigga sort of a station that you used to

So you ain’t got to get all extremely too personal on your albums

When you not surrounded by bigger artists to fucking boost you

Nigga you called me, I didn’t recruit you

But no regrets, I take it as a test

Said, “Lupe, you gotta have some grace

Not be so haphazardly to put the truth all in they face”

Now that I think about it, that’s kind of half-and half

If a nigga asked you for the strap, why would you keep it in the stash?

If you ran the world, we’d get defeated in a flash

You really gonna be the boss, can’t keep secrets from the staff

I learned that in the streets, nigga sweeping trash

Keeping my city clean while you was talking ’bout beating a nigga’s ass

That shit is wack, long live backpack rap

Fuck these Monster drinking, new age conscious thinking

Farrakhan today, gangster tomorrow, one foot in they sorrow

The other foot in the trap

Killers who easily triggered by a little niggas attacks

Who have the audacity to ask rappers to rap

Facts!

Mickey!

Ay, ay, listen I ain’t done nigga

Check this shit out, look, ay

In seven minutes he did it, if he knew how to freestyle

He could’ve rented Heaven for seven minutes and been done

But needed to be done by the second sentence

All this extra innings may come across as master

But my impression’s apprentice

Your penmanship has the fingerprints of a gimmick

And affecting the intimacy of impressions of that nigga you friends with

I ain’t gotta say it to say it

I can’t even blame you, the nigga’s one of my favorites

Fuck that, back to my status

All icy, talk spicy like the House of Atreides

Inwardly successful, and outwardly I’ve made it

Clearly, if I was a regular rapper, you wouldn’t even come near me

This nigga think he Siri, the answer to your queries

What’s Siri to Steve Jobs? A Budden to Tahiry?

I’m excessively cheery, promote my niggas theories

What’s an alien to a pentagon report? I see your brother tryna cheerlead

That’s what he’s supposed to do

And everybody that’s fucking close to you

Post support, push you forth

And calm your black ass down cause they ain’t put you in The Source

You chose violence

I just wanna know when you gon’ respond to Osyris

And go to E.O.Dub, battle in front a judge

Instead of hitting Smack and tryna entertain the thugs

Come and fuck with us, nerds!

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