[Hook: Bilal] You're in my heart, you're in my mind You're the star that will always shine Forever you'll be with me.
[Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco] Uh, it go like You ever see the inner depths of a man's soul? Or ninja turtles pouring out of manholes This is balance Between a comic and a conscious, that's the challenge Between the solitary and the conference that I examines That I imagine was a figure Would be the start of world peace and the transformation of niggas Like the transubstantiation of liquor But that's just turnin' them into blood And we'll be right back where we was Not a peace-sign, but a fascination with scissors So I can cut Myself off from the calculations of empress, empires, and the sinners For advancement of human suffering And other things trying to impede my publishing and editorials That's gon' bring it back to us again A boomerang might as Halle Berry and Eddie and everybody fuckin' it
[Hook: Bilal]
[Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco] Shotgun, Even though independent cars ain't got one I got some and more to spare No more despair My motor-ware don't match my motivate Also I drive to stay alive and ride this over there My momma so mad, so no alcohol in here I'm Aries Spears on my Jay-Z shit Affion on the Drake skit Now how many more can I make with just one voice They might call it fake shit This some deep shit, it's my me And my impersonatin' we shit Vicariously in every rap I speak with I hope you're speakin' for me, if I'm ever speechless Cause I'mma be you Even though you're not here to be with I hope I see these gangsters actin' like teachers Wake up out they sleep, then they dream And the world so Martin Luther King-less
[Hook: Bilal]
[Outro: Lupe Fiasco] And to my hero Heron, Gil Scott In a discourse with Baldwin On a jet plane with no fear for fallin' But wishin' it never lands Reminiscent of the dream time Presently en route to the rhymes of the machine time Magazine times With coffee more sugar and milk than coffee ? rhymes, rotten beats, and failed hooks Roads as bumpy as braille books Fail cools, bad French, and mad push at the door Gourmet food at the starving soiree A choice of one easy woman at a time I'll take three the hard way Trying to be as abstract as possible And vulgar, the more shocking the more profitable A baby fed molten gold And sat upon a pedestal promote getting called 24 carot souls How to describe this Insightful remarks such as the best thing I've ever heard is silence Some more technically impressive In a faux spanish romantic ? Please listen to the critics, pointless is the common passerby Might as well not even exist, not even a bit In the event of my demise give everything I prize to the poor And the oppressors, I leave a war And so on and so forth
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Copy to Clipboard: [Hook: Bilal] You're in my heart, you're in my mind You're the star that will always shine Forever you'll be with me.
[Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco] Uh, it go like You ever see the inner depths of a man's soul? Or ninja turtles pouring out of manholes This is balance Between a comic and a conscious, that's the challenge Between the solitary and the conference that I examines That I imagine was a figure Would be the start of world peace and the transformation of niggas Like the transubstantiation of liquor But that's just turnin' them into blood And we'll be right back where we was Not a peace-sign, but a fascination with scissors So I can cut Myself off from the calculations of empress, empires, and the sinners For advancement of human suffering And other things trying to impede my publishing and editorials That's gon' bring it back to us again A boomerang might as Halle Berry and Eddie and everybody fuckin' it
[Hook: Bilal]
[Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco] Shotgun, Even though independent cars ain't got one I got some and more to spare No more despair My motor-ware don't match my motivate Also I drive to stay alive and ride this over there My momma so mad, so no alcohol in here I'm Aries Spears on my Jay-Z shit Affion on the Drake skit Now how many more can I make with just one voice They might call it fake shit This some deep shit, it's my me And my impersonatin' we shit Vicariously in every rap I speak with I hope you're speakin' for me, if I'm ever speechless Cause I'mma be you Even though you're not here to be with I hope I see these gangsters actin' like teachers Wake up out they sleep, then they dream And the world so Martin Luther King-less
[Hook: Bilal]
[Outro: Lupe Fiasco] And to my hero Heron, Gil Scott In a discourse with Baldwin On a jet plane with no fear for fallin' But wishin' it never lands Reminiscent of the dream time Presently en route to the rhymes of the machine time Magazine times With coffee more sugar and milk than coffee ? rhymes, rotten beats, and failed hooks Roads as bumpy as braille books Fail cools, bad French, and mad push at the door Gourmet food at the starving soiree A choice of one easy woman at a time I'll take three the hard way Trying to be as abstract as possible And vulgar, the more shocking the more profitable A baby fed molten gold And sat upon a pedestal promote getting called 24 carot souls How to describe this Insightful remarks such as the best thing I've ever heard is silence Some more technically impressive In a faux spanish romantic ? Please listen to the critics, pointless is the common passerby Might as well not even exist, not even a bit In the event of my demise give everything I prize to the poor And the oppressors, I leave a war And so on and so forth
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