Lupe Fiasco - Ooh lyrics

Ugh, ugh, yeah uh, huh-ugh, yeah
Oh, oh f-I, A-S, C-O

Make you say (O oh) uh, huh, yeah, ugh, ugh
(Y yeah, y yeah-y yeah) ooh
Ugh, chick ah, yeah, listen, listen

Ya hopefully hand over the Land Rover keys
Slowly and run like hosiery
I move eggs like ovaries
Closed lactose and sudairy
Who y'all supposed 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 antisocially
Twice the rapper get it from
Both of me jokingly (Ugh, yeah)


So constant and nonchalant from
BICs to Mont Blanc's
Lose conscience, Lu's not the one to confront
(Uh, uh) worth my weight you impersonate
Niggas like Miller Light, spit it right
End your life, terminate (yeah)
I'm the worst-case scenario (Ugh, yeah)
Bump heads for coins like Mario
Pop more rounds than Merry-Go-
Fom birth date to burial in South Beach
Bitches 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 sun with Hawaiian Tropic
What's in your pockets my profit's
Foxes pick me up like chop sticks
This hotness
They wanna put me in 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 meant to end shit
Never rental get mine freeway like Van Wyck
Peace to Francis and all my mans-es
Take trips to France-es, where all my mans is
With fifths in hands-es rewind
And chant this, nigga

Ugh-ugh, ugh-ugh, yeah, ugh
Ugh, ugh, yeah, you know?
Madison Ave, my street where I grew up at
(Check it out)
I'm a hustler yeah, I confess it
(Check it out)
I'm a rapper no other rapper can contest it
(Right?) that's for certain that's for sure
(You know what I'm saying?)
But, I'ma step the game up
Listen, listen, listen

I got a bezel from embezzling good heavens!
And they said I lost it in ninety-seven
About to start using Mexicans
Not 'cause they better-than
Just 'cause I get, "Sí, señor, " not
"I need more" (Uh, uh)
With chicks from Singapore from
Bunkbeds with Tonio
To tour-room colonials it's still testimonial
So I keep it secret
In the kitchen in the cabinet in
A jar where the grease is
L-U-P speaks it 'til it's pieces
Peanut-butter-like always being a quiet cat
Not the "meanest motherfucker" type
Give hundred grand-plus
I be buffing brass knucks
Best listen to your dogs
Get Son of Sam'd up what!
Ahead of my time, failed history (Ugh, yeah)
Passed chemistry, quiet nines and quinine
My energy

(yeah) always be weaponry to unload (yeah)
While there's people to hold up
Reputations to uphold (yeah)
I'm gung-ho (Ugh) with them white lines (Ugh)
Not the kind that divides traffic
But the kind that reminds addicts
Automatics to your attic (yeah, yeah)
Teched-out Porsche in the
Decked-out Boxster WASup!
Feds is nice with the camera's
Challengers get beat black and lavender
Women put my name across
They chest like janitors
Fans of the hustler under the stairs
His fiends on the banisters, what!

Uh, huh, there you have it (Right there)
It's the boy, you know? yeah
Uh, huh, yeah nothing else to it
Ugh, ugh chi Town
Madison Street first-Fifteenth
Big things, you know
One-one-five, one-one-five stack Bundlers
L-U-P-E fiasco