Untitled Lyrics

[Intro: Common]
Yo ? I'mma come on the rhythm
With a little Commonism, yeah
Hah, so check it out, yeah

[Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco]
Word, from Com Sense
Untitled
Through the coolest nigga, what if's ballin' in my budget
Budgin' ain't in my ballin', nudgin' ain't in my nuggets, huh?
Too mean, too mean, no chicken in my luggage
But Michigan Ave jazz drum stick is in the bucket, huh?
Riveter, proceed like abortion clinic picketer
Or don't heed a no seed deliverer
Or through the glass, face mask on the visitor
And to perform, get a little horn like a newborn unicorn
Listener
It's like miles on a horse
Five-thousand and two-hundred eighty styles for the source
Get compiled in reports then redacted into blackness Then filed in the court for a trial for divorce, wow
We're like miles from the aisle they had walked
From the vows they had smiled now the child wanna forf
File is magnificent mile crowds watchin' the black male drummer pale
I was tellin' you before
Sail 'em to the shore just to sell 'em to be sure
Intelligent as hell when I tell it to the shore
Sell it to the shell you should come and buy a shirt
I be sellin' them on tour
Now there's somethin' to be said 'bout a trumpet to the head
A drummer for the hands, needs somethin' for the legs
Hmm, let's call it runaway slave ships
Fried chicken's tasteless and watermelon's racist nigga

6dd38ce5669199856067a7ee4891cc90