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Lupe Fiasco

Dead Presidents Freestyle

 

Dead Presidents Freestyle

(album: Lupe The Jedi - 2006)


No question, you ain't gotta A-suck
I fly through, pocket full of J-F-Ks
I rise to, the occasion like toast
With totes on the waist
And I flood your watch flooded like a basement man
You and my main foes fold like clean clothes
Sub-machine holes the size of Shaq rings in between your eyes like nose
Pinky mac ring like the song that Peedi Crack sings, I Propose
Don't make me stand up, told you
You ain't gotta have your hands up
I was like, screw paper
Then I ran round touched money, changed my mind
Mind on my change so I tucked money hands down
Now, in addition to the semi
There's paper on the waist like Henry
And niggas ain't seeing what I'm keeping concealed
They wanna be it, chill; you would leak it if the secret's revealed
Peep it, might leak it to polices and squeal
Then you gotta hide money like
Fresh or witness protect
Went from, best to business exec in less than 4!
You can get it in the chest like Fresh
Anything not next to Tec is hidden in the floor
So act like you Denzel or Rudy Ray Moore
Wait, there's more:
Let me catch you tapping my floor like Savion or Morse
Hope you like the sound of hollow, I got more
I black out like DOS, how you gonna back out
There's no back doors, like Porsche
Or course, it's the Boss, Tony Danza of Stanza
Springsteen of sixteens
It's nothing sweet, it's Lupe
I am White people's Kool-Aid, it's mean
The baller with the goggles like Kareem
From Chicago with the models on the scene
Duck fellas
Better get down like duck feathers
A rhyme or a crushed pepper
A grinder yeah that's much better
You a, dice game I'm a casino man
Hustler for life, you hear the lingo and
Find me covered in ice like Encino Man
Only one missing is Pacino, man
Get it, ha ha

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