Listen to Chopper (feat. Billy Blue, Buk of Psychodrama, Trouble, Trae Tha Truth, Fam Lay & Glasses Malone) by Lupe Fiasco

Chopper (feat. Billy Blue, Buk of Psychodrama, Trouble, Trae Tha Truth, Fam Lay & Glasses Malone)

Lupe Fiasco

Hip-Hop/Rap

10,171 Shazams

Music Video

Lupe Fiasco "Chopper" featuring Billy Blue [Live Performance]
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lupe Fiasco
Lupe Fiasco
Lead Vocals
DJ Dahi
DJ Dahi
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Trae tha Truth
Trae tha Truth
Songwriter
Buk
Buk
Songwriter
Fam-Lay
Fam-Lay
Songwriter
A. Feeney
A. Feeney
Songwriter
Dacoury Natche
Dacoury Natche
Songwriter
Wasalu Jaco
Wasalu Jaco
Songwriter
Frank Dukes
Frank Dukes
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Lupe Fiasco
Lupe Fiasco
Executive Producer
Frank Dukes
Frank Dukes
Additional Producer
Free Chilly
Free Chilly
Executive Producer
Chris Gehringer
Chris Gehringer
Mastering Engineer
DJ Dahi
DJ Dahi
Producer
Bob Horn
Bob Horn
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

And now Ladies & Gentlemen, Lupe Fiasco "Billy Blue" Know you gotta sit there and remember this one, Lupe Had to get Blue on this track, you feel me? HOLLA AT 'EM, WHOA That's all I appreciate right there man I live for this shit, nigga, you know what I mean TALK TO 'EM "Lupe Fiasco"x2 Filet mignon with my food stamps Car cosigned by my mama Medical card from Obama Background check for a chopper "Bridge: Lupe Fiasco" Background check for a chopper Background check for a chopper Filet mignon with my food stamps Background check for a chopper Medical card from Obama Background check for a chopper Background check for a chopper Background check for a chopper "1: Billy Blue" I got my chopper full and my black tee, slide My baby mama done fucked up on her food stamps That's three muscles recertified I'm riddin', niggas be watching, they don't want these problems When them bills due, niggas get ready cause no bullshit I'm plottin' I'm a government baby, let me get my cheese, let me get my cheese Got a Seven Tray in my mama yard, sittin' on D's I'm bout this fee, I'm bout this fee Just know what's free You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth so don't critique Look at me nigga, just a young hood nigga tryna get this cake I don't need to be givin' out how school gon' educate Filet mignon for my food stamps I know mama credit quite good So I'm out here with this dope money got a big body in my hood Nigga you see it, better believe it, this what I'm bout Got a trap house I be boomin' in, fiends in and out Cut the check anyway it come nigga, section 8 See we straight, see this money I make This block can stay, ha "2: Buk of Psychodrama" Filet mignon with my food stamps Would tell you I don't but it wouldn't be the truth Let me hit you back on my government phone Still a hood nigga, whatcha want me to do? We get a blunt and a joint out of sawbuck of loud Where I'm from we be actually hoopin' in Jordans Five dollar white t-shirts and them loose cigarettes Ain't nobody finna do shit important People really don't give no fuck about nothing Although they may smile and be cordial Dealin' around with the wrong damn crowd Then bring a frown to my friend up in an alley, we warned you Background check for the chopper, the barrel Breathin' back down the neck of imposters The murder rate ain't back down yet Cause they ain't wrote that down yet To the nigga that was tryna say somethin' Some people, listen, you could be predisposed or be preconditioned Or speak with the preacher, been preaching be the person To be some process in your progress or be the prevention I just live my life and I don't stop grindin' until God tell me to I get money, I ain't gotta sell my soul, ho, who the hell is you? They say my kind ain't welcome everywhere, well I can deal with that But those who pop they shit get the shit popped outta them it's still a fact So mind your business and stay the fuck outta mine You'll solve you'll find that this is best for everyone involved All in all, the Lord as my witness ""x2 "3: Trouble" Permit, don't need permission from a doctor I been smokin' since a pre-teen toddler I been servin' since a jit tryna dodge all the obstacles My teachers all told me that were probable Probable cause, no cracka never really had it I was just a nigga in a high price whip Yea, I'm just a nigga with an education brought up in the ghetto Well you better have extension on the clip Well beef comes around in the town more often than these bitches and emotions I got a yapper, five dollars, off the streets (Yeah I'm totin') For protection more than anything (You gon' test my devotion) My first amendment right, they violate it anytime we outspoken Chicago violence boostin' up but we just focussin' on other environments Cause the country is taking notice More fiends are risin' Molly the new dope and I Apologize cause it was something I was promotin' Chopper in my bitch name in case I light somebody up You just tell them it was stolen Rich gunplay, shit that's all they see that's all they know Without it kinda hopeless Said this is in '09 and still no medicare for grandma I done said out their names and niggas still ain't want no anna Lu probly tell me Trouble you gotta put the mack down Felonies all in your background Said this is in '09 and still no medicare for grandma I done said out their names and niggas still ain't want no anna Lu probly tell me Trouble you gotta put the mack down Felonies all in your background "4: Trae tha Truth" I used to run up in your crib with shit that go 'blaka Nigga tryna brick my squad like I'm Waka I don't want a single chain I can't rocka Heard em' tell me life is a bitch, can't stop her Even if I could, I tell 'em I wouldn't knock her Til I get that section 8 and then swap her Baby mama tax return, new dropper I might wanna go silk that bitch like I'm Shocker All of my whips wetter than a water house Food stamps getting flipped, what that water cost? Yea I'm actin like a nigga that ain't never had shit Filet Mignon, porterhouse My little brother on his medical shit from that block street Nigga health care insured by that guap Doorways ain't hiding me, no stop Jackers playin' overseas with they yacht Shit I probly be the same I find drama Law's out lookin' for me like Osama I don't wanna do no bid, yo honor Still waitin' on my one phone call from Obama Tell 'em I need the chopper They tellin' me I'm a felon I'm tellin' 'em they got it wrong I beat the case in '97 And I wasn't acquainted with him But I'm tryna make it to Heaven But they don't want me to make it That's why the niggas be tellin' me If I don't get the chopper I'mma probly run up inside them They better gimme a answer, I'm tryna be cool If I don't get it then everybody gon' fear it Every week I'm finna make 'em repeat it like they in school Bed blues, everybody open up somethin' You can move all you want just not sudden It ain't no thinkin' I was playin' I am not frontin' The mentality of a goon, I am not stuntin' ""x2 "5: Fam-Lay" Storm is gone now it's all clear The road was long but we all here Now go and tell, I don't care 2014 is our year Big shout out to the whole streets This goes out to all that knows me All y'all pussy niggas, holies Y'all play tough guys but call the police Look I don't care, I don't share I keep me a bad bitch with long hair I send them choppers around there When I'm somewhere sittin' in a lounge chair Overseas, blowin' tree, blowin' green, throwin' B's Livin' like life is supposed to be And if you wanna see it all, nigga roll with me To the top, couldn't stop, had a major deal but it wouldn't pop Nigas hated on me but I wouldn't stop And now life sweeter than a puddin' pop Think so slick, come and get me dog None of y'all niggas fuckin' with me dog Some of y'all niggas comin' with me dog None of y'all niggas' boots fit me dog You think an echo was y'all You need to think tactical dog We laughin' at y'all While you thinking me and Lu radical, naw Seein' this shit that keep goin' on Then pick a different zone for your mobile homes Store fingerprints on your mobile phone When you sippin' that shit we keep blowin' on "6: Glasses Malone" I'm bout that, I'm bout that That Bentley out in that driveway Cost more than my house did Fuck land, I'm fly today First class if I fly Credit card ain't mine Don't know how I'm gettin' back But in luxury I arrive (TURN UP) IPhone in my baby name Long way from that chirp Strip pole in my bedroom But I'mma kill my daughter if she twerk I'mma kill my daughter if she twerk Miley Cyrus on that bullshit But a real nigga can't judge That for Billy Ray to have to deal with Record deal, fuck college Missed out but no pyrex My Harley got low milage This white carpet in my project 30 guns in my section, none of the homies got iron My side bitch said she pregnant But I ain't claimin' shit but the game I ain't claimin' shit but the game I ain't claimin' shit but the game And this one is mine, I don't trust his mama So he don't got my name Cheap rims on my ride Mirrors loose as my beat pound I ain't addicted to shit My weed man on my speed dial ""x2 "7: Lupe Fiasco" Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop AR-15 with collapsible stock Picatinny rail with a three-point harness With 150 round magazine and a dot FMJ's by the box, nigga Got the same setup as the SWATs, nigga Shouldn't find that surprising Cause I bought the muthafucka from a cop Ay, seen a lot of brown money as a shorty Welfare baby can't afford me Healthcare there, I ain't worried Healthcare there, I ain't worried Excuse me, as I repeat myself Work twice as hard to complete myself My opposition is not pretending When I work twice as hard to defeat myself Fuck being a hip hop purist When I'm spendin' 50 thousand on Securus Embrace the contradiction, you'll feel us RIP to the homies but long live the killas It's why I look at God kinda odd Cause these are the cards that he deal us Ramen can't fill us, Medicare can't heal us And the mamas can't stop us And these choppers might kill us Look these wild niggas in they eyes In the video it's some niggas that done died Looked the ghosts in the face and I cried No Wu-Tang, just Lu gang when I ride With an L up sayin' "free da guys" like I'm Durk With a clean record but I'm cursed To make a half a million off a verse Nigga, chop
Writer(s): Wasalu Jaco, Frazier O. Iii Thompson, Pedritho Dorsonne, Nathaniel Johnson, Charles Penniman, Dacoury Dahi Natche, Mariel Orr, Dukes Frank, Jeffrey Robinson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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