Lupe Fiasco - You, Me, Him, Her (Freestyle) lyrics
Lupe Fiasco [Wasalu Muhammad Jaco] Chicago, Illinois, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Lupe Fiasco - You, Me, Him, Her Freestyle lyrics]
Some snapper is he
In the dirty call me young trapper MD
40 cal gun clapper empty
None matter, none dapper, son rapper MC
Too much before so I chatter simply
Over any Proteus drum pattern M-P
Through your Pro Tools, modules
And Mac SMPTE
Gather round gon' be rather lengthy
Its all good new pan rapper is me
Nike shoes bandana, Fendi
Cadillac black like a Bentley
Gotta bat never lack young mack a pimpy
While you smacks her down I tap her gently
The chitter-chatter done got her friendly
The game I runs like a lapper indeed
Can't catch her breath heart patter quickly
Whether grippin' a mic or palmin' a pistol
I get it well done
Its medium rare to be so raw in the middle
Get little be ghost or gone, I am
A lawn you can't post up on
No meet with waist I keep toaster on
I need more I'm so close to dawn
I can't be blurred out the fo-cus is on
(nigga)
Y'all kids ain't cuttin the di-jon I pull up
To ya car like Grey Poupon rookie
Pimpin' in that grey coupe on 20's then
I peel off like o ranges
Watch yourself senor's dangerous
Whether givin' a whole
(hole) or breakin' half if I bring
The danger shake it fast
Truck full of holes like Jason's mask
No Mystikal, don't miss wit the cal 40
That is shorty that is
Don't press your luck, accelerators what
I press in the truck, i'm so ghetto
Elevators ain't lettin' you up, I'm a big boy
(Big Boi) everybody in love wit Lu
She you and your cousin too
Just Cadillac doors and outta mack 4's
Old folks turnin' cataracts toward him
I'm so hard to see and so hard
To be, hey can you handle traction
Push an Abraham Lincoln or an Andrew Jackson
(Paid) Rodgers and Hammerstein
Niggas turn into Dodgers when hammers gleam
They don't like the words but
They'll honor the magazine
I'm the Source of the shit
Forty-four in my Jockey draws
I'm the horse of
This shit but my money never short
Niggas there's no eatin' here nigga don't
Put ya money into forks
Niggas it's a cold cold world don't
Put your money in shorts niggas
In the dirty call me young trapper MD
40 cal gun clapper empty
None matter, none dapper, son rapper MC
Too much before so I chatter simply
Over any Proteus drum pattern M-P
Through your Pro Tools, modules
And Mac SMPTE
Gather round gon' be rather lengthy
Its all good new pan rapper is me
Nike shoes bandana, Fendi
Cadillac black like a Bentley
Gotta bat never lack young mack a pimpy
While you smacks her down I tap her gently
The chitter-chatter done got her friendly
The game I runs like a lapper indeed
Can't catch her breath heart patter quickly
Whether grippin' a mic or palmin' a pistol
I get it well done
Its medium rare to be so raw in the middle
Get little be ghost or gone, I am
A lawn you can't post up on
No meet with waist I keep toaster on
I need more I'm so close to dawn
I can't be blurred out the fo-cus is on
(nigga)
Y'all kids ain't cuttin the di-jon I pull up
To ya car like Grey Poupon rookie
Pimpin' in that grey coupe on 20's then
I peel off like o ranges
Watch yourself senor's dangerous
Whether givin' a whole
(hole) or breakin' half if I bring
The danger shake it fast
Truck full of holes like Jason's mask
No Mystikal, don't miss wit the cal 40
That is shorty that is
Don't press your luck, accelerators what
I press in the truck, i'm so ghetto
Elevators ain't lettin' you up, I'm a big boy
(Big Boi) everybody in love wit Lu
She you and your cousin too
Just Cadillac doors and outta mack 4's
Old folks turnin' cataracts toward him
I'm so hard to see and so hard
To be, hey can you handle traction
Push an Abraham Lincoln or an Andrew Jackson
(Paid) Rodgers and Hammerstein
Niggas turn into Dodgers when hammers gleam
They don't like the words but
They'll honor the magazine
I'm the Source of the shit
Forty-four in my Jockey draws
I'm the horse of
This shit but my money never short
Niggas there's no eatin' here nigga don't
Put ya money into forks
Niggas it's a cold cold world don't
Put your money in shorts niggas