Fort MinornFort MinornnLupe:nUhnSpray paint and ink pens,nI usenTo write in every color I think in,nTo paint a picture,nWith every rhyme that I speak in,nYeahnThe gallery is the beat then I (echoes I)nnMike:nYesnLadies and gentlemen we have a special guest for you this evenin'nGhost you ready?nnGhost:nYo,nI verbally paint pictures,nI'm the hood's best story teller,nThis one 'bout a young boy,nDealin with them older fellas,nPromised him the lives,nYou see on TV,nHe ran packs across town,nLike rhyme CD'S,nAndnBig chains, new cloths, Nikes and Reeboks,nStackin' too much lootnTo squeeze in a shoe box,nSavin',nHe promised moms a crib in Atlanta,nAnd his pops got killed through debt,nHe was a dealer,nSo he stayed stressed out,nstarted walkin' with suit cases,nno more cross townnNow he's crossin' them states, andnSeeing new faces,nNot knowing who to trust,nSo when the door kicked opennThey scream This is a bust,nIs it a set up?nIt seems funny a scuffle broke out,nHe got hit, dropped the cases,nSpittin' blood out of his mouth,nHe walked four blocks to die,nTryin' to survive,nAnd now all that's left is his mom,nScreamin' God why?nnLupe:nUhnSpray paint and ink pensnI usenTo write in every color I think innTo paint a picturenWith every rhyme that I speak innYeahnThe gallery is the beat then I (echoes I)nnMike:nYeah, YeahnLet me begin by sayingnShut the fuck up!nnLet me begin by saying,nI don't think this man knew what he had in store,nHe opened the door, and found the bag under the floor,nNot a peep, while he's working the lock,nGet the flame, aim, POPnOpen the box and take off,nout the back of the pawn shopnScoping the lot,nHoping the cops hadn't seen the plates on his car,nHe felt like he'd been hustling so hard,nlike a demon he pumped a cold heart,nplay it cool like Humphrey Bogart,nPut the rings on his chain attached by both parts,nHe did the drop,nOne ring in a bag,nEnvelope, all the money he had,nLeft the money and the ring in a slow exhale,nTwo weeks went by,nGot a box in the mail,nIn the box was a bullet made of goldnMelted down from the ring,nRecast with two rings and a band,nAnd he stared at it sittin' the palm of his hand,nAnd sat down next to a picture that sat on the nightstand,nIt was his wife in the picture at his side,nWith the ring on the finger on the week that she died,nAs he looked in the reflection, at those eyes so red,nHe put the bullet in a gun,nAnd put it right in his head,nLike that,n[gunshot]nnLupe:nUhnSpray paint and ink pensnI usenTo write in every color I think innTo paint a picturenWith every rhyme that I speak innYeahnThe gallery is the beat then I (echoes I)nnLupe:nUh, yeahnUhnnMike: Fiasco nnHe knew he didn't have enough power in his thrusters,nTo muster warp 5,nPlus if he pushed it the fuel cells could rupture,nAnd then they would die,nThen the galaxy would suffer, but he knew he had to try,nBut he couldn't risk it, put the cure in the escape pod and kissed it,nTold her goodbye,nShe started to cry,nBut he knew if he could distract em,nHe could buy her some time and she could make it out alive,nTurned the suit around and got prepared for the stand off,nSpace mine had blew one of the hands off,nDamaged laser cannons and the guidance system jammed,nAnd he faced the whole fleet,nBlood seeping through his teeth,nthe final saga in the Seven Planet Wars,nUnsheathed the sword andnThen he charged forward,nHis eyes flashed behind the cracked cockpit glass,nHe let out a laugh,nAnd then all she heard was a blast liken[explosion]nLupe:nUhnSpray paint and ink pensnI usenTo write in every color I think innTo paint a picturenWith every rhyme that I speak innYeahnThe gallery is the beat then I (echoes I)nnMike:nYeah,nLadies and gentlemen, this has been a fort minor productionnGhostface!nFiasco!nnLupe:nUhnSpray paint and ink pens