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pu$y (rnt) - lupe fiasco lyrics

[produced by moez’art]

[verse 1: lupe fiasco]
lord have murcielagos waiting on the n-gga
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, n-gga, pour, n-gga
they adore the event of war
down force on the doors of adored n-ggas
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 p-rn business
keen to king ’til the, ’til the p-wn hit us
if he goes, half a million sold, sold the soul, going gold
in the end will it go to the p-wn business?
you ain’t doing nothing with it
let a n-gga 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 h-ll lil’ n-gga live there for months
except these young, black males wouldn’t drive if you give them trucks
n-gga, n-gga, n-gga what, i don’t give a, give a, give a, f-ck
with a, with a mind full of money, pockets full of nothing
n-ggas gonna feel what a n-gga feel
always been a winner ever since beginner
all the way to the end and never ever been a p-ssy

[hook: billy blue] (x4)
p-ssy n-gga, p-ssy p-ssy n-gga, p-ssy p-ssy n-gga get f-cked
real n-gga, twitter, what?

[verse 2: lupe fiasco]
lord, please keep these diablo n-ggas off a n-gga mind
lord, please keep these diablo n-ggas off a n-gga spine
lord, please keep me fiasco outta rest of these n-gga lie
these n-gga lie, these n-gga lie, these n-gga lie, these n-gga lie
lord, please forgive me for the sinning
sinning please forgive me for the snitching to the lord
openin’ for business scissors to the ribbon n-ggas wanting to get in, open up the doors
son wanna feel ’em, open up the ceiling
n-ggas 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 n-ggas 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
n-ggas wanna exercise, exercise i-x-i ain’t no jumpin’ my jack
if i lift an arm i’mma lift a car, n-gga, 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
n-gga, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga what
i just figure, figure, figure you gon’ be a n-gga, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga what
and since n-ggas is faster than them white folks on the tracks
white folks tightrope, like both, i could be a sprintin’ n-gga
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
p-ssy!

[hook]

- lupe fiasco lyrics

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