Lyrics Two Words - Kanye West, Mos Def, Freeway

Two Words

Well, it is a weeping and a moaning and a gnashing of teeth
It is a weeping and a mourning and a gnashing of teeth
It is a — when it comes to my sound which is the champion sound
Believe (believe!)
Okay Lamborghini Mercy, your chick, she so thirsty
I’m in that two-seat Lambo with your girl, she tryna jerk me Drop it to the floor, make that ass shake
Whoa, make the ground move, that’s an ass quake
Built a house up on that ass, that’s an ass state
Roll my weed on it, that’s an ass tray
Say Ye, say Ye, don’t we do this every day-day
I work them long nights, long nights to get a pay day
Finally got paid, now I need shade and a vacay
(And niggas still hating) so much hate I need an AK
Now we out in Paris, yeah I’m Perriering
White girls politicking, that’s that Sarah Palin
Gettin’high, Californicating
I give her that D, cause that’s where I was born and raised in Yeah it’s prime time, my top back, this pimp game ho
I’m red leather, this cocaine, I’m Rick James ho
I’m bill-dropping Ms. Pac-Man, this pill popping-ass ho
I’m popping too, these blue dolphins need two coffins
All she want is some heel money, all she need is some bill money
He take his time, he counts it out, I weighs it up, that’s real money
Check the neck, check the wrist, them heads turning, that’s exorcist
My Audemar like Mardi Gras, that’s Swiss time and that’s excellence
Two-door preference, roof gone, George Jefferson
That white frost on that pound cake so your Duncan Hines is irrelevant
Lambo, Murcie-lago, she go wherever I go, wherever we go, we do it pronto
Well, it is a weeping and a mourning and a gnashing of teeth in the dancehall
And who no have teeth gwan rub pon them gums cause
When time it comes to my sound, which is the champion sound
The bugle has blown fi many times, and it still have one more time left
Cause the amount of stripe weh deh pon our shoulder
Let the suicide doors up I threw suicides on the tour bus
I threw suicides on the private jet
You know what that mean, I’m fly to death
I step in Def Jam building like I’m the shit
Tell 'em give me fifty million or I’m-a quit
Most rappers taste level ain’t at my waist level
Turn up the bass 'til it’s up-in-your-face level
Don’t do no press but I get the most press, kid
Plus, yo my bitch make your bitch look like Precious
Something about Mary, she gone off that Molly
Now the whole party is melted like Dalí
Now everybody is movin’they body
Don’t sell me apartment, I’ll move in the lobby
Niggas is loiterin’just to feel important
You gon’see lawyers and niggas in Jordans
Ok, now ketchup to my campaign, coupe the color of mayonnaise
I’m drunk and high at the same time, drinkin’champagne on the airplane (Tell em)
Spit rounds like the gun range, beat it up like Rampage
100 bands, cut your girl, now your girl need a bandaid
Grade A, A1, chain the color of Akon
Black diamonds, backpack rhyming, co-signed by Louis Vuitton (Yup!)
Horsepower, horsepower, all this Polo on I got horsepower
Pound of this cost four thousand, I make it rain, she want more showers
Rain pourin', all my cars is foreign
All my broads is foreign, money tall like Jordan