Pu$$y - Lupe Fiasco, Billy Blue

Lord have Murcielagos waiting on the ****a

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, ****a, pour, ****a

They adore the event of war

Down force on the doors of adored ****as

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 porn business

King to king 'til the, 'til the pawn hit us If he goes, half a million sold, sold the soul, going gold

In the end will it go to the pawn business?

You ain’t doing nothing with it Let a ****a get it for the low-low-low-low

Lames tried to form their brains, couldn’t storm it like a dodo-dodo-dodo-do

In the Philippines eating chicken wings, smothered with adobo-dobo-dobo-do

Vatos, fiascos, votos locos like a cho-lo-lo-lo

Gadget go, go, go, go Ratchet ho, ho, ho, ho Santa ho, ho, ho, ho K-Ci, Jo-Jo-Jo-Jo

Brown skin brother in a fed box at the hell lil' ****a live there for months

Except these young, black males wouldn’t drive if you give them trucks

I don’t give a, give a, give a, fuck

With a, with a, with a mind full of money, pockets full of nothing

Always been a winner ever since beginner

All the way to the end and never ever been a pussy

Pussy ****a, pussy pussy ****a, pussy pussy ****a get fucked

Real ****a, Twitter, what?

Lord, please keep these diablo ****as off a ****a mind

Lord, please keep these diablo ****as off a ****a spine

Lord, please keep me Fiasco outta rest of these ****a lie

These ****a lie, these ****a lie, these ****a lie, these ****a lie

Lord, please forgive me for the sinning

Sinning please forgive me for the snitching to the Lord

Hoping and forbidding to the ribbon ****as wanting to get in, open up the doors

Son wanna feel 'em, open up the ceiling

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 ****as 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

If I lift an arm I’mma lift a car, ****a, 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

I just figure, figure, figure you gon' be a ****a, ****a, ****a, ****a what

And since ****as is faster than them white folks on the tracks

White folks tightrope, like both, I could be a sprintin' ****a

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 dinner

Einstein mind, mind bender

Fine dine, nine, wine, find cocaine in my mind

Antenna pussy!