Chopper lyrics

[Intro: Buk, Billy Blue]
And now ladies and gentlemen: Lupe Fiasco
Know you gotta sip that Remy to this one, Lupe (yeah)
Had to get Blue on this track, you feel me?
Uhh, holla at 'em, whoa!
That's all I appreciate right there man
I live for this sh*t, you know what I mean?
Uhh, talk to 'em

[Chorus: Lupe Fiasco]
Yeah, uhh, f-f-filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (chopper)
Filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (rrah)

[Bridge: Lupe Fiasco]
Background check for a chopper (rrah)
Background check for a chopper (rrah)
Filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Background check for a chopper (rrah)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (chopper)
Background check for a chopper (chopper)
Background check for a chopper (chopper)
[Verse 1: Billy Blue]
I got my chopper full and my black tee, slide
My baby momma done f*cked up on her food stamps
That’s three months to re-certify
I’m ridin', n*ggas be watching, they don’t want these problems
When them bills due, n*ggas get ready 'cause no bullsh*t, I'm plottin'
I’m a government baby, let me get my cheese, let me get my cheese
Got a seven-trey in my momma 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 n*gga, just a young hood n*gga, tryna get this cake
I don’t need to be givin’ out how school gon’ educate
Filet mignon for my food stamps, I know momma credit quite good
So I’m out here with this dope money, got a big body in my hood
n*gga you see it, better believe it, this what I’m 'bout
Got a trap house that be boomin', n*gga, fiends in and out
Cut the check, anyway it come, n*gga, Section 8
See we straight, see this money I make, this block can stay, ha

[Verse 2: Buk]
Yeah b*tch, filet mignon with my food stamps
Would tell you I don’t but it won't be the truth
Let me hit you back on my government phone
Still a hood n*gga, whatcha want me to do?
We get a blunt and a joint out a 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 sh*t important
People really don’t give no f*ck about nothing
Although they may smile and be cordial
Dealin’ around with the wrong damn crowd
Then bring a frown to my friend, I'm 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 n*gga that was tryna say he saw somethin’
Some people, listen
You could be predisposed or be preconditioned
Or speak with the preacher, been preaching, be the person
To put 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 sh*t get the sh*t popped outta them
It's still a fact
So mind your business and stay the f*ck outta mine
You’ll solve you'll find that this is
Best for everyone involved, all in all, the Lord my witness
[Chorus: Lupe Fiasco]
Yeah, uhh, f-f-filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (chopper)
Filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (rrah)

[Verse 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 cracker never really had it
I was just a n*gga in a high price whip
Yeah, I’m just a n*gga with an education brought up in the ghetto
Where you better have extension on the clip
Well beef comes around in the town
More often than these b*tches' emotions
I got a yopper, five dollars, off the streets (yeah I'm totin')
For protection more than anything though (you gon' test my devotion)
My first amendment right, they violate it anytime we outspoken
Chicago violence boostin’ up but we just focusin’
On other environments cause the country taking notice
More fiends are risin', molly the new dope
And I apologize cause it was something I was promotin’
Chopper in my b*tch name in case I light somebody up
You just tell them it was stolen
Rich gunplay, sh*t that’s all they see, that’s all they know
Without it kinda hopeless
Said this in ’09 and still no medicare for grandma
I done said all their names and n*ggas still ain't want no anna
Lu probably tell me, "Trouble, you gotta put the mac down
Felonies all in your background"
Said this in ’09 and still no medicare for grandma
I done said all their names and n*ggas still ain't want no anna
Lu probably tell me, "Trouble, you gotta put the mac down
Felonies all in your background"
[Verse 4: Trae tha Truth]
I used to run up in your crib with sh*t that go blocka
n*gga tryna brick my squad like I’m Waka
I don’t wanna see no chain I can’t rock-a
Heard 'em tell me life is a b*tch, 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 momma tax return, new dropper
I might wanna go silk that b*tch like I’m Shocker
All of my whips wetter than a water house
Food stamps getting flipped, what that water cost?
Yeah I’m actin like a n*gga that ain’t never had sh*t
Filet mignon, porterhouse
My little brother on his medical sh*t from that block street
n*gga healthcare insured by that guap
Doorways ain't hiding me, no stop
Jackers playin’ open season with they yop
sh*t I probably be the same, I find drama
Law's out lookin’ for me like Osama
I don’t wanna do no bid, Your 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 '9-7
And I'm well acquainted with hell but I’m tryna make it to heaven
But they don’t want me to make it, that’s why the n*ggas be tellin'
If I don’t get the chopper, I’ma probably run up inside
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
Bad news, 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'

[Chorus: Lupe Fiasco]
Yeah, uhh, f-f-filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (chopper)
Filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (rrah)

[Verse 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 pus*y n*ggas, hold these
Y’all play tough guys but call the police
Look I don’t care, I don’t share
I keep me a bad b*tch 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, n*gga roll with me
To the top, couldn’t stop
Had a major deal but it wouldn’t pop
n*ggas hated on me but I wouldn’t stop
And now life sweeter than a puddin’ pop
Think you so slick? Come and get me dawg
None of y’all n*ggas f*ckin' with me dawg
Some of y’all n*ggas comin' with me dawg
None of y’all n*ggas' boots fit me dawg
You thinkin' back-a-wards y'all
You need to think tactical dawg
We laughin’ at y’all
While you thinking me and Lu radical, naw
You seein' this sh*t that keep goin' on
Then pick a different zone for your mobile homes
Storing fingerprints on your mobile phone
When you sippin' that sh*t they keep pourin' on

[Verse 6: Glasses Malone]
I’m bout that, I’m bout that, that Bentley out in that driveway
Cost more than my house did, f*ck 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
Stripper pole in my bedroom, but I’ma kill my daughter if she twerk
I’ma kill my daughter if she twerk, Miley Cyrus on that bullsh*t
But a real n*gga can’t judge, that for Billy Ray to have to deal with
Record deal, f*ck college, missed out but no Pyrex
My Harley got low mileage (and this white carpet in my project)
Thirty guns in my section, none of the homies got aim
My side b*tch said she pregnant, but I ain’t claimin’ sh*t but the game
I ain’t claimin’ sh*t but the game, I ain’t claimin’ sh*t but the game
And this one is mine, I don’t trust his momma so he don’t got my name
Cheap rims on my ride, mirrors loose as my beat pound
I ain’t addicted to sh*t, but weed man on my speed dial

[Chorus: Lupe Fiasco]
Yeah, uhh, f-f-filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (chopper)
Filet mignon with my food stamps (mm)
Car cosigned by my momma (Momma)
Medical card from Obama ('bama)
Background check for a chopper (rrah)

[Verse 7: Lupe Fiasco]
Uh-huh, my n*gga, what we doing?
Ayy, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop
AR-15 with collapsible stock
Picatinny rail with a three-point harness
With 150 round magazine and a dot
Ayy, FMJ’s by the box, n*gga
Got the same setup as the SWATs, n*gga
Shouldn’t find that surprising
Cause I bought the motherf*cker from a cop
Ayy, 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
Ayy, 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
f*ck 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, Medicaid can’t heal us
And the mommas can’t stop us and these choppers might kill us
Look these wild n*ggas in they eyes
In the video it's some n*ggas 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 the guys" like I'm Durk (them hittas!)
With a clean record but I’m cursed
To make a half a million off a verse
n*gga, chop

[Outro]
Kick, push, kick, push it, push it, kick, chyeah
Get it, chyeah, push, kick, push it, push it, kick, chyeah
Get it, chyeah, push, kick, push it, push it, kick, chyeah
Get it, chyeah, push, kick, push it, push it, kick, chyeah