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100 Chicagos

de Lupe Fiasco

Shit, yeah, uh-huh
Yeah, uh, uh, uh
Yeah, uh

My dome golden
My heart bleed Madison and Homan
Yeah, back to Madison and Kedzie
Madison and Albany, we right back into home again
Where them dwellings wasn't buildings
Intelligent ain't skilled until the fellas got the felons in they feelings
Yelling to the ceiling
Scale again, the pelicans is skeletons and villains
Oh no, no, I'm just rolling, I can't even flee
When I see old money, old money
Veterans and millions, elegant and brilliant
Ain't no food and liquor three, we on that medicine and killing
Off top, free Chill, yeah, uh
Generating Zen with some nice sword practice
Rest In Peace Virg', LV, it's Vice Lord backwards
A simple flip of the monogram
That ain't shit, I had similes on my sonogram, my momma's man
Before I was born, I was doing reconnaissance
My barber taught me how to chop a nigga with my chopper hand
Not at all prophetic
Just chauffeurs in Allah's Lexus
The realest nigga alive, no prosthetics or cosmetics
Might catch the Holy Ghost and start speaking in Nas records
Hah, hah, hah, said he came through the town
Had the flames on his crown, the youth was all excited
And Memphis drooped his whole fuckin' name into the ground like

Gangsta Boo, what up?
Yeah, hah, yeah, yeah, yeah

That's this, what if rap had a blacksmith?
The day you catch me lack
Is the day Farrakhan eats catfish as a Catholic
Reporting live from the blacklist
Accustomed to being this bad cause he packed it
But if they ask, that ain't my bag cause I traffic
See the lights from the O spark
Feeling like Austin meets Oak Park
A hundred Chicagos, they want no parts
He at the MCA yelling: Go, Art
At the strip club with his eyes closed and throat parched
Westside with my whole heart, heart

Westside with my whole heart
Westside, ooh

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