Lyrics:
the trap spot
(Trap spot)
Couple nights shovin' hard by my damn self
(Damn self)
By my damn self, out there by my damn self
I remember I was goin' hard by my
places
I had it an hear em
talkin' loud behind my back
What was good for the hood
Is what they say is wack
I take the stabbin' and grin
When I'm hit
as the sun, loves to shine
How y'all fought, oh my oh my
Tell me life stories, about getting by
Every single word I took to heart
Cause man when you passed, I
Video tape my life
Pressing play to find
Times we'd play around
Now I just
Press play the count
The good old days
Funny cause we're still so
[LUPE FIASCO: TALKING]
Uh, what up y'all!
Soundtrack what's popping baby?
Y'all ain't know, I go by the name of Lupe Fiasco
Representing that first
-If we was owned by the white folks it will be all good
-But we independent, black owned and making scrilla
-We a threat to society
-They ban our
gone to bed now for it's getting late at night
The fire's all raked and there isn't any light
For now you've heard the story of my old rigadoo
So
never tell we were cowboys; we were real lookin' hippies by heck. With long hair, bare feet, old t-shirts, and beads around our necks. And shoot we just
Surrounded by everything that's strange
Eccentric as it's deranged
Step into a portal full of unconventional change
Push boundaries and embrace
with skills that are clever
But I escape by wandering from this world to the next
A hero in every story-with the video games I trek
I don't drink
Wanna make art that nobody sees
So they'll say it's brilliant, but that's a disease
Old man sittin' across the street on a porch
World of stories
to be good""
Life goes by fast take it slow
One day you're young and the next day you're old
He used to tell me all this at our fishin' hole
I used
the gallon and a cigarette light
Tough young hand and a young old man
Wilder than hell and crazy as sin
But the Marlboro man was a good friend of mine
a castle instead
And get fed some grace by Miss USA
[Hook (Juvenile)]
How can I make a million?
Without tha feds investigating my building
I know niggas
Smooth it out
This is a story about the drifter
Who waited through the worst for the best in crosstown
Who never planned on havin' so dick
Why me,
that went through my inside, like it's trying to find a missing key
I bet you know how good that feels like
Music videos were the best things that I
Why thank you
(Pick up jack please don't eat that glass my friend)
(Have you heard, about dear Blanche?)
(Got run down by an avalanche) No!
(Oh
prolly by the time I’m building houses I’ll be building stories
(cos no time for real)
Good to be at the top yeah, staying up high and keeping it so real
a young real ass nigga like me, young Wiz Khalifa, man let's get it)
Good weed, pretty girls in my whips
We be really in the mix
Cardboard boxes, say
sometimes
Why do you keep reminding me
To just fucking die by sending me 4 videos
I know it was your friend that had the idea
Whoever he is
I'm gonna kill you
singing for
The daybreak chorus of my dreams serenades no more
Yeah the minute man is going soft -- the mirror's on the shelf
Only when the truth's
That good men, they raise good sons
To stand where he stood
But I'm draggin' my feet
Wounded by the enemy
I'm draggin' my feet
Wounded by the enemy
Through blood, sweat, and tears
From San Antone del bravo
Too tough for his own good
My dad took chance without fear
Worked miles in worn boots
With
instead
The more money, more problems like the man said
Ain't like my phone is bein tapped by the damn FEDs
But my accountant said I can't get out
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