lupe back

Lupe Fiasco

Yield, to the forces of darkness
I bring you the torches of our shit
Reinforced with hardness of Wolverineââ?¬â?¢s
Arms with the harshness and overall sharpness
Now how far do the arms get?
My nigga, from the stars to the starfish
From the baby to the bomb
Itââ?¬â?¢s a whole lot of light and a whole lot of armlift
My arms long, but Iââ?¬â?¢m lawless
A strong arm, I can lift up all this
You gonââ?¬â?¢ have to build a bigger farm for us
To keep them wolves out of Old Macdonald barn, bitch
Yeah, Team Jacob
Weââ?¬â?¢re 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 niggas like to pass interfere
Spend a lot of lint over jams in the year
That act like the man up in here
That donââ?¬â?¢t count when your only real fan is a mirror
Thatââ?¬â?¢s subliminal to any nigga that he feel he is too
But you donââ?¬â?¢t 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 lookinââ?¬â?¢ scared?
Turning whiter than Anderson hair
Came out the garage like he saw a phantom in there, huh

Oh shit alert, Louis clothes
Callin women bitches, Louboutin and Gucci shows
Well, I guess there goes my Louis shows
More o shit, if your role modelââ?¬â?¢s a movie role
And if you live your life like itââ?¬â?¢s a studio
Talkinââ?¬â?¢ to us like we mics, a bunch of you ainââ?¬â?¢t do befoââ?¬â?¢
Electric fences for a urinal
Also keep a toaster in my jacuzzi, yo
Shock-a-zulu, call me Wasalu Ii
Oh shit, 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 asscheeks
Artists letââ?¬â?¢s mobilize and unionize like the athletes
Radio is making our craft weak
Forced to repeat the same dumb shit that work
Only as hot as your last beat
And rappers, they relating to that last piece
Album never leave they desk if you donââ?¬â?¢t got no B.D.S
Sacrifice your publishinââ?¬â?¢, they said you really need a hook
And they ainââ?¬â?¢t gonââ?¬â?¢ pay you, said that you received a look
And whatââ?¬â?¢s 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 fuck a nigga to be famous, huh
But itââ?¬â?¢s 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 Iââ?¬â?¢m livinââ?¬â?¢
Rest in peace to men, women and the children
And middle fingers to the Pilgrims that killed ââ?¬Ë?em
Friend of the People, happy Thanksgiving