Pyramid Lyrics - Lupe Fiasco

Metabolize on the scattered snare 

With the banana pies that he don't like 

Like mosquito bites on the shins or ankles 

In the end it bends 

Let's begin and pretend it's tranquil 

Upset stomach on the boat to Lucerne to see the lion 

Carved in the wall by the paw, nigga 

To commemorate the soldier dying over old divines 

Ergo some empire, not to inch but the entire 

More pills mean more spills bout the whore house with the extra door 

To let the divorced out with force 

And of the course routes, of course 

Cleopatra speaking patois with a mouth full of that jerk chicken 

With human heads for the curse lifting 

Onion bread with the shine to it 

It's up and fair to the fine stupid 

But she ain't dumb, at least she know that he ain't fun 

And neither's Europe, even to the Middle Eastern tourist 

With all the spend by the drum [?] 

How many millionaires can the slums hold? 

Potentially all of us, this whole plane and all the bus 

As juggernauts bust through a wall of trust 

You strain to see through the fog of dust 

Like spaghetti for the meatballs 

Of [?] immaculates 

Head over heels like the back is flip 

Japanese [?] 

Love labours, get her backstage like the judge chambers 

Everyone under the sun loves hugs from a young stranger 

Or do us, or fool us 

On boats in the Bay of Pigs 

Runaways way with the wayward kids 

And the underpaid slaves from Jamaican gigs 

Don't shoe us, cause we ain't Bush 

We ain't huffs don't boo us cause we ain't cooked 

But who else could the foo-foo up 

In this book I mean, dumplings with dark continents 

Dumb things even bar common sense 

Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes a terpene intertwines with the turban 

Rhymes with turbans and removes the minds of serpents 

Detergents, deterrents and permits, to build a hut 

Twerk team, Operation Build-a-Butt 

Great like [?] the sleeve 

As a king breathes through a silver sieve 

Jack and Jill ain't up that hill enough 

Filtering lean through a gold grill 

Theorize things from [?] hills 

The came became what that po' kills 

[?] drills in that hotel, that'll all spill 

Looking at space from a submarine 

Putting that bass in the club machine 

Pushing that cake till that mushin ass face and no love between 

Fancy ass man wearing glove and rings 

Flying round town in a tub of wings 

Found out how to make love to fiends 

She mixing that [?] with the drug of dreams 

She too teenaged to have a drug of choice 

But she fuck with that Royce like she love Detroit 

She wrote 

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Photos