[Intro: Matthew Santos]
Tonight, tonight, tonight...
The stars are aligned, and the planets colliding,
The plan is arriving, and she's out there smiling,
The fear is upon us, the skies tried to warn us,
Their perils are goners, no children to mourn us,
It's driving me crazy, this war is my lady,
We've lost all our babies, and God is amazing,
The tick of the timer, the slip of the rhymer, the pimp and the riser,
Your cross, there you'll find her.
Hey, hey!
[Chorus: Matthew Santos]
Death is on the tip of her tongue, and
Danger's at the tip of her fingers.
Streets are on fire tonight.
Death is on the tip of her tongue, and
Danger's at the tip of her fingers.
Streets are on fire tonight.
[Verse 1: Lupe Fiasco]
Disease, the virus is spreadin' in all directions,
No safe zone, no cure, and no protection,
No symptoms define the signs of an infection,
No vaccines, remedies, and no corrections.
Quarantine the dreams and seal off the connections,
Don't let them in, not a friend, not a reflection,
Everybody's got it, and want you to have it next, and
Don't accept them if you want to stay as an exception.
No pill can heal the ill of this
Sickness, some are still in doubt of its existence,
Some call it forgiveness, and some call it the vengeance,
Some say it's an exit, and some say it's an entrance.
The poor say the rich have the cure,
The rich say the poor are the source,
Revolutionaries say it's psychological war
Invented by the press just to have something to report.
Some say the first case came from a maternity ward,
Some say a morgue, some say the skies, some say the floors,
Whores say the nuns, nuns say the whores,
And everybody is sure.
The scientist say, “It only affects the mind”.
The little boy said, “It only affects the girls.”
The preacher man said, “It's going to kill off the soul.”
A bum said, “It's going to kill the whole wide world.”
[Chorus: Matthew Santos]
Death is on the tip of her tongue, and
Danger's at the tip of her fingers.
Streets are on fire tonight.
Death is on the tip of her tongue, and
Danger's at the tip of her fingers.
Streets are on fire tonight.
[Verse 2: Lupe Fiasco]
"Believe!" So say the neon signs by the
Loudspeakers repeatin' that everything is fine –
A subtle solace to demolish the troubled conscience
Of a populace with no knowledge, and every freedom denied,
Every dream is designed and broadcasted
From the masters to the masses
From the antennas on the top of the shrines,
Refine the receiver and plant it,
During the panic and short it, it reports back,
“Everything in your mind, everything is lying,
Everything is dying, everything is a rule,
Everything is a crime, everything was here then,
Everything rewind.” The new
Weather burned the feathers off everything flying.
And she likes it, and she loves it.
The sadness, the madness, the bad shit,
The lavish, the fastest, the clashes, the ashes to ashes,
Everything intertwined.
My femme fatale, my darling fraudulent angel,
Once caught her changin' the batteries in her halo,
Receipt for her wings and everything that she paid for,
And the address to the factory where they made those.
Scientist said, “She's all inside my mind.”
The little boy said, “What happened to all the girls?”
The preacher man said, “She's going to kill off your soul.”
The dope boy said, “It's the whole wide world.”
[Chorus: Matthew Santos]
Death is on the tip of her tongue, and
Danger's at the tip of her fingers.
Streets are on fire tonight.
Death is on the tip of her tongue, and
Danger's at the tip of her fingers.
Streets are on fire tonight.
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