Charlie Wilson – Lord Lord Lord lyrics

The power of observation
Marvels and frights and strange delights
Attributes, properties, disciplines and novelties
Ecstatic patterns in the calendar design
Wilderness tours, guided for and by the blind
Cool ruler standing still sweating through the shades
He knew those lights only grew bright to fade
Dead wrong pageantry, lottery and games
Sleight of hand provided by extravagant and fake
The carnival tilt bell the hustle for the age
They clutch what they covet, what must they give away?
Who was uninvited who was asked to come and stay?
Surprise, it's your life, it's your business anyway
So please pardon these and such curious minds
Peace, safe passage, precious time hither and gone
The day of days, Yawm al-Qiyāmah
This tiny stone illuminated by a star
The only star so large many more
To make our largest star show small
Furthermore, the end is not the end no stop but a pause
And what we can witness isn't all there is at all
Custom mock of a scotch and pork chops
The passion, expansion, the order of the random
See the dreamers, see the sleepers
Why'd you wake them?
Sweet Jesus and life on Earth
Seek heaven first
Let's put in this work

Her heels set the mood
Where did you acquire those Alaia's
When I met you I heard Jesus, bells, strings, and the choir
I got lines that's better than niggas' albums, plural
The king of the urban make your shit sound rural
She said I hit it so deep she need a epidural
Them other niggas have you looking like a squirrel
Now that's nuts. I only hang with white boys that like black sluts
Tell them Plain Pat yo that track sucks
We ain't dissing you
But you in the position to play something for us to listen to
I'm trying to worry about my scratch minus the crabs
I ain't stopping for you niggas like yellow cabs
I got scripts so why we need a movie?
And if I'm a douche then put me in your coochie
I swear they should have never gave these niggas loose leaf
And excuse me if I'm trapped by the boobies, booby trapped

All white Bentley, I call that mama
My life crazy, like Obama's
You talk slick? Well I'm Osama
Bin Laden, I'm what's happening I get it cracking
All black Carbon on my wrist yeah
It's gonna take you a couple years to get this here
Thank AP, well they thank me
And I be mad too if you ain't me
Call me Mr. Dean or Mr. Bars
See me riding clean in a Rolls Royce
Niggas talking funny, that's old money
Niggas looking crazy but they talking funny
Nowadays rappers, they like bloggers
You see me, I'm a bank robber
Coming through your hood in a Brinks truck
With 25s on it like what the fuck
100 feet and better, what the fuck use stick
Paparazzi on the water what the fuck use stick
My face got the "fuck you pricks"
My beats go hard like fuck you dicks
Pouring champagne damn thing
See me rocking suede, nigga, in the damn rain
Ain't a damn thing, money ain't a damn thing
Ask Yeezy and Mos we do the god damn thing

Ay yo open glass on my fingers
I sit back like I'm caged but still caking
My niggas is hating
It's like being in the livest Lambo in the hood
You a piece of steak I'd rather be that than some bacon
Every project is a throne only just bigger
Stones they throw that's why I wear a big hat and roll weed
Gone if you don't know where you came or when you came
All you know is weed and cocaine
Nonbelievers no game
I'm zooted down, rolling a spliff, maxing
Flaming like wheels got traction
I'm sun he's attractive
Guaranteed to service the real niggas
Out cruising in a Volvo, a duffle for dolo, buffy polo
A blow house is where I resided once
Live amongst fiends, counting currency, hitting blunts
Only to hear the door rumble, grab the 4
Hope it ain't the law
Or maybe some nigga trying to score