[Produced by Flying Lotus]

[Intro]
FlyLo, Lupe, I go

[Verse]
Metabolize on the scattered snare
With the banana pies that he don't like
Like mosquito bites on the shins or ankles
In the end it bends
Let's begin and pretend it's tranquil
Upset stomach on the boat to Lucerne to see the lion
Carved in the wall by the pond
To commemorate the soldier dying over old divines
Ergo sum empire, not the inch but the entire
More pills mean more spills by the whore house with the extra door
To let the divorced out with force
And other course routes, of course
Cleopatra speaking patois with a mouth full of that jerk chicken
With rum in hand for the curse lifting
Onion bread with the shine to it
It's up and fair to define stupid
But she ain't dumb, at least she know that he ain't fun
And neither's Europe, even to the Middle Eastern tourists
Where oil is spent by the drum load
How many millionaires can the slums hold?
Potentially all of us, this whole plane and all the bus
As juggernauts bust through a wall of trust
You strain to see through the fog of dust
Like spaghetti for the meatballs
Of dust Parmesan immaculates
Head over heels like a back is flipped
The Japanese don’t perceive Atlanta-ness
Love labors, get her backstage like the judge chambers
Everyone under the sun loves hugs from a young stranger
Or do us, oh foo us
On boats in the Bay of Pigs
Runaways wait with the wayward kids
And the underpaid slaves from Jamaican gigs
Don't shoe us, cause we ain't Bush
We ain't hoofs don't boo us cause we ain't cooked
But who else could hook the fufu up
In this book I mean, dumplings with dark continents
Dumb things even bar common sense
Sometimes, sometimes, sometimes a terpin intertwines with the turbans
Vines with turbans and removes the minds of serpents
Detergents, deterrents and permits, to build a hut
Twerk team, Operation Build-a-Butt
Great like Gildersleeve
As a king breathes through a silver sieve
Jack and Jill ain't up that hill enough
Filtering lean through a gold grill
Theorize things from swole hills
They came became what that po' kills
Throw ho drills on that hotel, that'll oil spill
Looking at space from a submarine
Putting that bass in the club machine
Pushing that cake till it mush in that face ain't no love between
Fancy ass man wearing glove and rings
Flying round town in a tub of wings
Found out how to make love to fiends
He mixing that fudge with the drug of dreams
She too teenage to have a drug of choice
But she fuck with that Royce like she love Detroit
She rollin'
(Pharaoh, pharaoh)