The After Life (Street Stories) Lupe Fiasco

[Verse 1]
Give me models with semi-autos
And many Glock fo's in they Fendi ponchos
Kissimmee Saint Cloud condos
You want it pronto
You hit it on the head like congos
My entourage is
Like that of Malik el-Shabazz Hajj's
Those that choose not to dodge us
Bullet lodges
Like water buffalo better get
Hustler ettiquette
Move rocks like Frederick
And your dames I entertain
Like my first name Cederick
Like Max Julien how I max jewely them
Or any other chicken that listens for more than 40 seconds
Me and shorty steppin, left in the dust is the previous player who
Game wasn't up to par with thus such as ours
See thats where the jealousy starts, the ice grills begin and the weaponry sparks
So I'm forced to keep a gun up in the drawers and a, vest tight like a woman wit some balls
Pause... never
Niggas stall like public bathrooms
I move fast, while they assume
Positions I be splittin and gettin gone
They wanna take me off the wicker throne that I sit upon
Like Huey Newton but Luey shootin in Louis Vuitton, movie viewin, hoochie doin'
With a chick similar to Lucy Liu an' only Cuban
Transmittin, these ghetto laws like the transitions
See the heroin that my man siftin'
I move it to death
Like my hands spittin, from my lungs to my tounge to my gums to the guns that my hands liftin
Stay riffin Mercedez Benz sedan whippin
Extra heavy coppin, set up every block and buy out every bag of plastic wrap saran rippin
Nigga, nigga... yeeeah!