[Produced by DJ Dahi]
[Intro: Billy Blue]
And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco
Know you gotta sip that Remy to this one, Lupe
Had to get Blue on this track, you feel me?
Holla at 'em, whoa!
That's all I appreciate right there man
I live for this shit, nigga, you know what I mean
Talk to 'em
[Hook: Lupe Fiasco]
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for a chopper
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for a chopper
[Bridge: Lupe Fiasco]
Background check for a chopper
Background check for a chopper
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Background check for a chopper
Medical card from Obama
Background check for a chopper
Background check for a chopper
Background check for a chopper
[Verse 1: Billy Blue]
I got my chopper full and my black tee, slide
My baby mama done fucked up on her food stamps
That’s three muscles recertified
I’m ridin', niggas be watching, they don’t want these problems
When them bills due, niggas get ready cause no bullshit I’m plottin'
I’m a government baby, let me get my cheese, let me get my cheese
Got a Seven Tray in my mama yard, sittin' on D's
I’m bout this fee, I’m bout this fee, just know what’s free
You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth so don’t critique
Look at me nigga, just a young hood nigga tryna get this cake
I don’t need to be givin’ out how school gon’ educate
Filet mignon for my food stamps I know mama credit quite good
So I’m out here with this dope money got a big body in my hood
Nigga you see it, better believe it, this what I’m bout
Got a trap house I be boomin’ in, fiends in and out
Cut the check anyway it come nigga, section 8
See we straight, see this money I make, this block can stay, ha
[Verse 2: Buk of Psychodrama]
(Yeah bitch) Filet mignon with my food stamps
Would tell you I don’t but it wouldn't be the truth
Let me hit you back on my government phone
Still a hood nigga, whatcha want me to do?
We get a blunt and a joint out of sawbuck of loud
Where I’m from we be actually hoopin’ in Jordans
Five dollar white t-shirts and them loose cigarettes
Ain’t nobody finna do shit important
People really don’t give no fuck about nothing
Although they may smile and be cordial
Dealin’ around with the wrong damn crowd
Then bring a frown to my friend up in an alley, we warned you
Background check for the chopper, the barrel
Breathin' back down the neck of imposters
The murder rate ain’t back down yet
Cause they ain't wrote that down yet to the nigga that was tryna say somethin’
Some people, listen, you could be predisposed or be preconditioned
Or speak with the preacher, been preaching be the person
To be some process in your progress or be the prevention
I just live my life and I don’t stop grindin’ until God tell me to
I get money, I ain’t gotta sell my soul, ho, who the hell is you?
They say my kind ain’t welcome everywhere, well I can deal with that
But those who pop they shit get the shit popped outta them it's still a fact
So mind your business and stay the fuck outta mine
You’ll solve you'll find that this is best for everyone involved
All in all, the Lord my witness
[Hook]
[Verse 3: Trouble]
Permit, don’t need permission from a doctor
I been smokin’ since a pre-teen toddler
I been servin’ since a jit tryna dodge all the obstacles
My teachers all told me that were probable
Probable cause, no cracka never really had it
I was just a nigga in a high price whip
Yea, I’m just a nigga with an education brought up in the ghetto
Well you better have extension on the clip
Well beef comes around in the town more often than these bitches emotions
I got a yapper, five dollars, off the streets (Yeah I'm totin')
For protection more than anything though.. (You gon' test my devotion)
My first amendment right, they violate it anytime we outspoken
Chicago violence boostin’ up but we just focussin’ on other environments
Cause the country is taking notice
More fiends are risin', Molly the new dope and I
Apologize cause it was something I was promotin’
Chopper in my bitch name in case I light somebody up
You just tell them it was stolen
Rich gunplay, shit that’s all they see that’s all they know
Without it kinda hopeless
Said this is in ’09 and still no medicare for grandma
I done said out their names and niggas still ain't want no anna
Lu probably tell me Trouble you gotta put the mack down
Felonies all in your background
Said this is in ’09 and still no medicare for grandma
I done said out their names and niggas still ain't want no anna
Lu probably tell me Trouble you gotta put the mack down
Felonies all in your background
[Verse 4: Trae tha Truth]
I used to run up in your crib with shit that go ‘blaka
Nigga tryna brick my squad like I’m Waka
I don’t want a single chain I can’t rocka
Heard em' tell me life is a bitch, can’t stop her
Even if I could, I tell ‘em I wouldn’t knock her
Til I get that section 8 and then swap her
Baby mama tax return, new dropper
I might wanna go silk that bitch like I’m Shocker
All of my whips wetter than a water house
Food stamps getting flipped, what that water cost?
Yea I’m actin like a nigga that ain’t never had shit
Filet Mignon, porterhouse
My little brother on his medical shit from that block street
Nigga health care insured by that guap
Doorways ain't hiding me, no stop
Jackers playin’ overseas with they yacht
Shit I probably be the same I find drama
Law’s out lookin’ for me like Osama
I don’t wanna do no bid, yo honor
Still waitin’ on my one phone call from Obama
Tell ‘em I need the chopper, they tellin’ me I'm a felon
I'm tellin' 'em they got it wrong, I beat the case in '97
And I'm well acquainted with Hell but I’m tryna make it to Heaven
But they don’t want me to make it, that’s why the niggas be tellin’ me
If I don’t get the chopper I’mma probably run up inside them
They better gimme a answer, I’m tryna be cool
If I don’t get it then everybody gon’ fear it
Every week I’m finna make ‘em repeat it like they in school
Bed blues, everybody open up somethin’
You can move all you want just not sudden
It ain’t no thinkin’ I was playin’ I am not frontin'
The mentality of a goon, I am not stuntin'
[Hook]
[Verse 5: Fam-Lay]
Storm is gone now it’s all clear
The road was long but we all here
Now go and tell, I don’t care
2014 is our year
Big shout out to the whole streets
This goes out to all that knows me
All y’all pussy niggas, holies
Y’all play tough guys but call the police
Look I don’t care, I don’t share
I keep me a bad bitch with long hair
I send them choppers around there
When I’m somewhere sittin’ in a lounge chair
Overseas, blowin’ tree, blowin’ green, throwin’ B's
Livin’ like life is supposed to be
And if you wanna see it all, nigga roll with me
To the top, couldn’t stop, had a major deal but it wouldn’t pop
Nigas hated on me but I wouldn’t stop
And now life sweeter than a puddin’ pop
Think so slick, come and get me dog
None of y’all niggas fuckin’ with me dog
Some of y’all niggas comin’ with me dog
None of y’all niggas' boots fit me dog
You think an echo was y’all
You need to think tactical dog
We laughin’ at y’all
While you thinking me and Lu radical, naw
Seein’ this shit that keep goin’ on
Then pick a different zone for your mobile homes
Store fingerprints on your mobile phone
When you sippin’ that shit we keep blowin’ on
[Verse 6: Glasses Malone]
I’m bout that, I’m bout that
That Bentley out in that driveway
Cost more than my house did
Fuck land, I’m fly today
First class if I fly
Credit card ain’t mine
Don’t know how I’m gettin’ back
But in luxury I arrive (TURN UP)
IPhone in my baby name
Long way from that chirp
Strip pole in my bedroom
But I’mma kill my daughter if she twerk
I’mma kill my daughter if she twerk
Miley Cyrus on that bullshit
But a real nigga can’t judge
That for Billy Ray to have to deal with
Record deal, fuck college
Missed out but no pyrex
My Harley got low milage
This white carpet in my project
30 guns in my section, none of the homies got aim
My side bitch said she pregnant
But I ain’t claimin’ shit but the game
I ain’t claimin’ shit but the game
I ain’t claimin’ shit but the game
And this one is mine, I don’t trust his mama
So he don’t got my name
Cheap rims on my ride
Mirrors loose as my beat pound
I ain’t addicted to shit
My weed man on my speed dial
[Hook]
[Verse 7: Lupe Fiasco]
Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop
AR-15 with collapsible stock
Picatinny rail with a three-point harness
With 150 round magazine and a dot
Ay, FMJ’s by the box, nigga
Got the same setup as the SWATs, nigga
Shouldn’t find that surprising
Cause I bought the muthafucka from a cop
Ay, seen a lot of brown money as a shorty
Welfare baby can’t afford me
Healthcare there, I ain’t worried
Healthcare there, I ain’t worried
Excuse me, as I repeat myself
Work twice as hard to complete myself
My opposition is not pretending
When I work twice as hard to defeat myself
Fuck being a hip hop purist
When I'm spendin’ 50 thousand on Securus
Embrace the contradiction, you’ll feel us
RIP to the homies but long live the killas
It’s why I look at God kinda odd
Cause these are the cards that he deal us
Ramen can’t fill us, Medicare can’t heal us
And the mamas can’t stop us and these choppers might kill us
Look these wild niggas in they eyes
In the video it's some niggas that done died
Looked the ghosts in the face and I cried
No Wu-Tang, just Lu gang when I ride
With an L up sayin’ "free da guys" like I’m Durk
With a clean record but I’m cursed
To make a half a million off a verse
Nigga, chop
[Outro]
