Microphone check, I make them all bounce
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Every teller in Bank of America, make them all count
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You gone need the whole staff to add up the amount
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It's going to take to pay me off to keep me out your house
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To keep me in my zone so that I don't zone out
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I'm Rich (Boy) and Po (low the Don) like Zone 4, thoughts is deep like Tone Loc
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Walk with me like old folk, cross your street a score's goaled
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I don't rap, I hockey rink, cause my flow is so cold
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I am on my "mmhmm," they are on they "Oh, No!"
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I am really in here/hair, they ain't real like Soul Glo
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Don't you know I'm so sure, them nigga's got no glow
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Find a master 'fore you can come back into the dojo
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Lupe got his mind right, nigga this is my mic
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And I've come to take it all back like Miller High Life
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He must not be tied tight, back against the wall
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He will throw a ball like he playing Jai Alai
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I'll do the register, you just get them fries right
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I don't trust America after watching Zeitgeist
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Take a look at my stripes, chest looks like a tiger arm
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and I'm hot as tiger balm, fire like a five-alarm
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And it's set to Tire Barn, Get your fire-fighter on
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I ain't worried about you hoes/hose, I don't even need to roll
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I turn down your ex like how you put your tires on
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Once I get these tires on, I buy a bomb and tie it on
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And ride this around the entire song, find a line to drive it on
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Park it near a metaphor, wait for it, the timer's on
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You can turn your hydrants on, I'll just turn my wipers on
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Wipe it off then wipe me down but don't forget about my bomb
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Turnt Up
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| Lupe Fiasco |
