Lupe Fiasco – BBQ Chicken Thighs Freestyle (Audio, Lyrics)

Date 2020-09-23

Category Foreign Music Download, Lyrics, New Music

Lupe Fiasco is back again with the “BBQ Chicken Thighs Freestyle”. Listen, stream, buy, mp3 download, read the lyrics to the song produced by Soundtrakk.

Lupe Fiasco Bbq Chicken Thighs Freestyle

Lupe Fiasco Bbq Chicken Thighs Freestyle

A lot of rappers talk shit but can’t back it. Lupe Fiasco isn’t one of those rappers. As the heated Lupe vs. Kendrick debate continues to bubble up on social media, even after Lupe admitted K. Dot is the better overall artist, he delivered some food for the soul with is the latest offering. Like many of his recent releases, he took his new freestyle straight to Instagram where he blessed fans with some home-cooking on “BBQ Chicken Thighs.” Lupe’s wordplay performs acrobatics over Soundtrakk’s soulful production for over 4 minutes as he proves, once again, why he’s deserving of a spot among the greatest to ever do it.

In related news, his recent tweets about Lupe have seemingly prompted speculation that Kendrick could very well be preparing some sort of diss track towards him. This comes shortly after TDE’s Punch cryptically tweeted, ” “Be careful what you ask for. You may get it. This business isn’t for the faint of heart.” Many believed this could be a sign that “The Heart V” could be coming soon.

Lupe Fiasco – BBQ Chicken Thighs Freestyle (prod. Soundtrakk)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GzUi3NAead8

Lyrics

[Intro]
Driven, yea
Track what up baby?
What’s today? It’s just, you know
Just push to express, you know?

[Verse 1]
Introspect, internet
Get a guppy, you just in a net
Him a vet might fix a puppy, smooth
Feels like chicken chutney in the neck
See, this isn’t that it’s a different threat
It’s distant, you’ll find yourself trippin on a different set
We don’t mix and mesh, mix and match
You gotta flip the script this isn’t act
Nor pat, veteran not veterinarian
No holy water? then presbyterian dairy then
Strippin stacks, pussy on the pole like missing cats
Where mister whiskers at?
What’s that? Poles of guns
Stacks of serial numbers, they getting scratched
Like give to backs and get it back
Came with different strats we spittin facts all in the crack
Still real even when fiction’s spat
Hit the mat your jui-jitsu wack
I’m Malcolm X with the temple tap
Money talks credentials chat
Simple raps if i give you shaq the rim will crack
Then we can even ball no more
Vlad won’t even let a nigga call no more, damn
It’s like everybody wants me switched and replaced
Lose the joy male strip I’ll still put a dick in your face
Like slam dunks
Out of work, chaturbatin, ex-rappin, man hunk
With all my bods in handfuffs
Old woman paid to pull his pants up very slowly as he stand up
Haha, comedy shit
And i’ll calm yo ass down like lobotomy sticks
Steal a nigga will like a robbery whip
Battle rappers be like ah ah *scrambled*
Switch the style up, emphasize the end rhymes and
Get your growls up, nigga like me will wash a nigga
Then pick the towels up, look back down, pick the tiles up
Reach through the floor grab the pipes and lift the house (yup)
Now, that’s clearly hyperbole
In real life i can take a real knife, certainly
And throw it real nice and take a Glock 19
And keep my bullet circles real tight
I’m talking holes through the same hole
Fruit ninja, oranges and mangoes
I will slice them shits
Put the video on IG and watch you like them shits
Real talk, simple preachers
The most to lose leave us
The black goes to tsushima
I make genghis falls like losin jengas
Livin limosine scene that’ll make a tina move from abusive singers
Real talk man the truth’ll sting us
Dope fiends loot the leaners salute the slingers
Prostitution, the cops won’t move a finger
Except to shoot and make us choose between us
Test your loyalty, arrested royalty
Won’t king us but will make us rich
The mental acrobatics will make you flip
The fact you ain’t figured that out should make you sick
Ah, but that’s how the game goes
I just want flying cars so I can
Put a benz in the sky like rainbows
And get a gold ak-47 with diamonds in my aim holes
Tell them niggas i’m like three jay-z
I know my lines by heart like EKGs
I know you want me gone but we can’t leave
Sincerely yours Mr. RAT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT-AT
Traaaakk!

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