Pyramid

[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)