Lyrics:
and a womans hand
She stole off with her lover
He was a dressed-up blues-harp man
And they chased the road to Chicago for the blues
From any raging band
Who is the man with the master plan?
DJ Mister Cee
Who is the man with the master plan?
He goes by the name of the Big Daddy Kane
Then it goes
handguns
I know answers, I know man to man, can't stand us
I know exactly how you wanna brand us
I take campers to the campus fix the trips and get
against Satan
If you don't see this, then you need to open up your eyes
Don’t get tricked by the media and their lies
This is a spiritual battle, and we
you heard me?
My world ain't worldly, any time could be my time
I get high, but still ain't seen Chicago skyline
In my prime, stakes is high cause
laugh again when they don't understand what I mean, bias
Everybody seen by us
Everybody wanna live a life like this
Man fuck that, do what's good for
in blue cup, faded in the eyes
Got a jay rolled up in the pocket on the side
The compartment in the dash man that's where the gun hides
Well until I
brightened by all the flashing lights
I find faith in the makers and folks who had to fight
I'm on stage in Chicago I'm bout to grab the mic
In the city
(Intro)
Boolulululululululambambalay
(Verse)
The murderer and eviction of white man in Zimbabwe
Whites are being slashed and killed almost everyday
the whip, walk him down, we ain't doin' no drive-by
Glock on my hip, they go, fat, fat, I fucked his bitch, got her callin' me papa
Old school drip, no dada
out, by the bench now
Chillin' on the boat, saw the ice cream truck out
Sixteenth, to the boat, then they fly out
Man, I thought that I would lose it,
the Liquid and all wack tennents gettin' evicted by the land lord
The vocal chords cuttin' like a sword
Yo I make you wake up, listen, pay attention, then show
to God
Yeah
So far, still so far apart, all I want is just to talk
I swear to God
Chicago man
on
The chase to find the Maltese Falcon-you bet-
Early thirties gangster movies
Set to spellbind population
From Chicago to Hong Kong
Via Istanbul
East Side, 17th Ave
Better keep a G-pass on ya G.I. to Chicago
Where the real niggas dead or locked up
Teenage pretty friends get knocked up
And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco
Filet mignon with my food stamps
Car cosigned by my mama
Medical card from Obama
Background check for
on wheels, you can tell that I'm so real
Cause I come through with the beard
You think it's weird
But it's all clear by the whole show
The AMC, check it out,
die)
I swear to God
I'm the reincarnated Young Sinatra
Whipin' through Cabo in a Murcielago
Dodging paparazzi with the finest dime
I met in Chicago
It's hard out here
Yeah it's hard out here
Life was hard out here
In these streets out here
Chicago Streets out here
Yeah it's hard out here
Yeah
Real shit tho, a lot of these niggas don't even know me man
All they know is I'm that lil' short nigga talkin' that East Side Crazy shit, you know
bitch, real niggas follow (uh)
I got niggas from New York To Chicago
Bitch playing but we make him not though (Blow)
Putting in work cus i'm back on my
Chicago Spring
Alley hang was in full swing
When I met you
A friend of a friend
I knew inside, had to see you again
On some déjà vu
CTA rides
The early morning rage from
Southern California to the Southside of Chicago
The feds calling it "Project Python"
The target first identified by
a heaven a guy
75, 75, a man was born in 75
Living dirt poor, Chicago Southside
His father had left, a hell of a guy
Stepping the deadly reflections of life
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