Ooh Songtext

von Lupe Fiasco

'Ya hopefully hand over the Land Rover keys slow-e-ly and run like hosiery
I move eggs like ovaries closed lactose and sudairy who y'all suppose to be?
None of them close to me, my poetry poison til' they posing me and little kids poking me openly
Fuck police I slip through they fingers like rosaries off the hook with the .38 rotaries
Get it locally move anti-socially, twice the rapper get from both of me jokingly
So constant' & nonchalant' from BIC's to Mont Blanc's
Who's conscience he's not the one to confront
Worth my weight you impersonate
Niggas like Miller Light spit it right in your life, terminate
I'm the worst case scenario bump heads for coins like Mario
Pop more rounds than Merry-Go, from birth date to burial
In South Beach beeches going south with they mouth piece without speech
Oh now he's official from the start, they miss you, holding vigils in the dark
Go head try and stop it, couldn't block son with Hawaiian Tropic
What's in your pockets my profits
Foxes pick me up like chop sticks, this hotness
They wanna put me boxes like chocolates...that's nonsense
Nothin' sweet about this but the hotel room Presidential like the wrist
I know, I'm sorry I never mental end shyt
Never rental get mine freeway like Van Wyck
Peace to Francis and all my mans-is take trips to France-es where all my manz is
With fifths in hands-es rewind and chant this, niggas!

I got a bezel from embezzlin' Good Heavens! And they said I lost it in 97'
About to start using Mexicans not cause they better than just cause I get Si Senor not I need more
With chicks from Singapore from bunk beds (not sure what he says here..)
To twelve room Colonials and still testimonial
And so I keep it secret, in the kitchen in the cabinet
In a jar where the grease is L-U-P speaks it til' its pieces
Peanut butter like
Always been a quiet cat not the meanest motherfucker type
(Not sure what he says here) I'd be buffin' brass Knucks
Best listen to your dawgs, get Son of Sam'd up, what!
Ahead of my time, failed history passed chemistry, quiet nines in Quinine
My energy always be weaponry to unload
While there's people to holdup reputations to uphold
I'm Gung Ho with them white lines, not the kind that divides traffic
But the kind that reminds addicts, automatics to yo attic
Tecked out Porsche' in the decked out Boxer WASup!
Fed's is nice with the camera's, challengers get beat black and lavender
Women put my name across the chest like janitors
Fans of the, hustler under the stairs his fiends on the banisters WHAT!!