Lupe Fiasco – 100 Chicagos (Audio, Lyrics)

Listen to Lupe Fiasco’s new “100 Chicagos” song. Read the lyrics, stream, buy, mp3 download.

Lupe Fiasco 100 Chicagos

It’s been a few years since Lupe Fiasco unveiled his last studio album but that isn’t to say he hasn’t been actively releasing music. Though the majority of his output from the past few years isn’t available on streaming services, YouTube, Twitter, and Instagram have been trusted outlets that has made his music readily available for his fans.

This week, Lupe Fiasco slid through with a brand new single titled, “100 Chicagos.” Ripping through the atmospheric production with the strength of his pen, Fiasco doesn’t bother with a hook on this one as he pays homage to his city, including a witty shout out to Virgil Abloh. It’s a firm reminder of Lupe’s wordplay and elite-level lyricism that he’s put pride in from the start of his career.

Lupe Fiasco – 100 Chicagos

Lyrics

[Verse]
My dome golden, my heart bleed Madison and (?)
Back to Madison and (?), Madison and Albany, we right back into home again
Where the (?) was (?)
Intelligent and skilled until the fellas got the felons in their feelings
Yelling to the ceiling, (?) and (?) is skeletons and villains, oh no
Old money, old money, veterans and millions, elegant and brilliant
Ain’t no food and liquor three, we on the medicine and killing
Off top, free Chip, yeah, uh
Generating Zen with some nice sword practice
Rest In Peace Virgil, LV, it’s Vice Lord backwards
A simple flip of the monogram, it ain’t shit, I had similes on my sonogram, my momma’s man
Before I was born I was I was doing (?)
My barber taught me how to chop a nigga with my chopper hand
Not at all prophetic, just chauffeurs in a (?) Lexus
The realest nigga alive, no prosthetics or cosmetics
Might catch the Holy Ghost and start speaking in NAS records
Said he came through the town, had the flames on his crown
The youth was all excited, and Memphis drooped his whole fuckin’ name into the ground like
That’s this, what if rap had a blacksmith
The day you catch me lackin’ is the day Farrakhan eats catfish as a catholic
Reporting live from the blacklist
Accustomed to being this bad cause he packed it, but if they ask, that ain’t my bag cause I traffic
See the lights from the O spark, feeling like Austin meets Oak Park
100 Chicago’s, they want no parts
He at the MCA yelling “Go, Art”
At the stripper club with his eyes closed and throat parched
Westside with my whole heart