Lupe Fiasco - Mural Lyrics

Lyrics Mural - Lupe Fiasco



Raw chemicals, vitamins and minerals
Vicodin with inner tubes, wrapped around the arm
To see the vein like a chicken on the barn
Top Cat chat, let's begin another yarn
That's flying saucer cheese, or is it chicken parm'
But roosters don't fly like boosters don't buy
So what powers cowards to get them to the top?
Just to fall asleep listening to Bach
The ribbon in the sky is the ribbon that I drop
Dribbling the eye across the prism of a clock
That lacks meaning, but racks up stacks of fat reading
They catch chief and wrapped up plants from trap dealings
Now what's a coffin with a scratched ceiling
And what's the talking without the match feeling
As buried living and cherry picking
Every linen from your berry system
Then proceed with the pack feeding
When I was young I had visions of another world
Sneaking looks at the porn stash of my brother HuRl
Incense smoke made vortices and other curls
Casting calls from porn films and add space for rubber girls
I like my pancakes cut in swirls
Morrocan moles and undercover squirrels
I like cartoons, souther cities with large moons
Faith healers, ex-female drug dealers and art booms
Apologise for my weird mix
What taste like hot dogs and tear drips
And looks like pantomime and clear bricks
And smells like shotguns and deer piss
They on their hunt, kinda salty that I'm going hard
First part of a party, that I throw in parts
One minute you playing pool
The next minute you throwing darts
But that's how you do with a party that you throw in bars
I run the Gambit like I'm throwing cards
From popular mechanics to overdosing hearts
Paint cold pictures like Nova Scotia landscapes
Nerd game make Mandelbrot sets when we handshake
A word game back up plan that can dam lakes
Backup the word play playin' at the man's states
Mean I can still be the man if the dam breaks
And when the man brakes I'm reflectious
What they can't face
My peers will still treat the mirror, like it's a fan base
The unfettered veteran, the eagle feathered man of medicine
That hovers above cities like weather men
And maybe weather woman
Whatever better to tell ya weather comin'
I prefer girls to reign all over the world
And not rain like, rain man or like rain dance
Or rain like a slight chance of rain when it's raining
Or rein like dear slaves, the Santa Claus slave man
But reign like Queens that reign over made man
And not Queen like Queen killer
Rhapsody bohemian Queen
But Queen like white glove wave hand
And not wave hand like it's a heat wave
So you make a fan by waving your hand
I'm talking wave like you saying "hey"
Man, and not hay for horses and
Horses like you almost voiceless
You gotta treat your vocal chords like it's a fortress
And treat every single one of your words like reinforcements
And especially when you're recording
Cause that's the portion that's important
When I was reporting that I was poor
But now I'm more than
It's still hooker heels on my sugar hills and sweet spots
Crying shames, make margarita rims from cheap tops
Deep plots in floor, the ceiling windows for my peep pots
A little scene with the sickle swings to make the wheat drop
In a hundred words, but them humming birds like to ease drop
And fan her like peacocks with a parakeet that beat box
So the sun rise when the beat drops
And the sun dies when the beat stops...
Then it unties, then it relapse, then it detox
Then heat back like a heat pack
On his knee caps of the weak spot
Cause he want what we got, like yeah
Then forge poetry like a young honory Morrissey
Then spit it to the golden locks thots
Who like their porridge on watery
Not scorching nor sorbity
From the steel orbitings, sorcerer, sorcery
Coming down gorgeously, just like a Stacey Dash waterfall
A more torturing, a water boarding Barbie doll
A river of women like a Brazilian carnival
Swimming in feminine bikinis made out of barbasol
Somebody give them the volleyballs
If you love her, don't ever send her to Mally Mall's
Homie if she lonely she might end up in Macauly's claws
Coming out the closet over goblets down at madri gras
The fame, champagne, walk of shame lobby call
My reposition was black condition of activism
I'm ammunition for abolition, missions attacking systems
But they not after listens, unless it's dropping on Activision
Are we app-soul, are we bodies filled with apparition
Operating applications, stuck inside a apple prison
Check and hack downloads, updates that lack religion
Or, are we more?
Then soil painting, disloyal changing
His preoccupied with Boyle and Goyle chasing
In-foiling of his royal saintings
I sit back and watch the world
Through the eye holes in my oil paintings
Uhhh!
Ain't nothin' to it but to do it
Unless you Virgin Mary nothin' do it but the trueth
Believe all that unless you Jewish
Life is not a dictionary, its a thesaurus
And I feel like a missionary to a clitoris
The water bearer heir of traditions that I swear to never change
My chair position or conditions of my porridge
Submission for sedition against the religion of a chorus
Keep them golden weed thieves out the motherfuckin' forest
As I perform a nerve storm
I prefer my pictures in word form
Bury the hatchet like how a bird born
As I paint cold pictures like Kool-Aid facing condensation
And having conversations with flavourful combinations
Slave to my concentration
So that's OJ The Juiceman meets OJ with two hands
And two gloves, that's too snug
To judge who was, who drew blood
And, Lupe look at all these tucans
In a cemetery full of tomahawkes
Giving middle fingers to the pigeons doing somersaults
Road runners don't fall off cliffs, they run across
Anomalies by the colonies flukes by the reservoir
Wildin' pursuers end up as poofs on the desert floor
Levitating youth so know the truth of where the fountain hides
Bucaraa Roof painting tunnels onto the mountain side
A thousands parts a pound of heart an ounce of eyes
Announcing now the doubt in mouth pronounces a count of lies
Shaka-La by the counts of 5
Refrigerator roof full of animals and monsters
Incinerated shoes and the manual for contra
Assorted memories from my childhood
Absorbing energy from the wild woods
Elec-tronic combat Konami sign contract
Chinese char killing cucarachas on contact
Chicago spread an aficionado
Efficient spitting bridging divisions is in Chicano
Who's the Boss?
If isn't Alyssa Milano
Do the cough
Ninja mission into the Congo
Polarize envy of the older guys
Black obi, shinobi hittin' Kenno in the face
With all my throwin' knives
Sub-zero guiding, hiding, riding in the pack as well
Sound village, leaf village, wolf spirit, magic spells
Dodging rain and catching hail
Faces need samurai to catch the L
Special research vessels made for catching whales
Fillet-a-fish ships sea-shepherded peppered with extra sails
Rewrite history, liberty needs a better bell
Maybe how the ions in carbon fibres that never fail
Smart as science mixed with odd alliance of fairytale
Or maybe just a metal pale that you hit with a steel tools
To announce that you've had enough
And dropping out of seal school
Just like trout jumping out they house to let they gills cool
Cuba-scuba couldn't take the temperature of my skill pool
I said it feels cool to kill fools
Slipping through the cracks like when you trying to grill-groove?
Take no Viking water bottle and not following pill rules
Will have you off of the throttle when you should be modelin' chill mood
Rolla skater maker or are you just cobblin' wheel shoes
Overweight taster of kings food that kills crews
Oblivious feather-weight baker who
Autographed cakes whenever his quill moves
Over your meal you
Simple as a Buddhist monk in a temple standing
In some heel groove with the abbot, practising stillness
Real still he realizes his realness
Defeat Samsara achieves nirvana and brilliance



Writer(s): Wasalu Jaco, Alain Mion, Jamal Johnson


Lupe Fiasco - Tetsuo & Youth
Album Tetsuo & Youth
date of release
20-01-2014




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