This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race (Remix)

"**This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race (Remix)**" is the alternate remix song by American rock band Fall Out Boy featuring American rappers Paul Wall, Skinhead Rob, Travie McCoy, Tyga, Kanye West, Lil Wayne, and Lupe Fiasco. It was leaked over the website FriendsorEnemies.com, and performed at the 2007 MTV Video Music Awards alongside Brendon Urie of Panic! at the Disco.

## Lyrics

**Lyrics**
[Intro: Travie McCoy]

Travie! (Uh-oh)

Pete, thought I told you

What up, Hemmy? I see you!

[Verse 1: Travie McCoy]

I've had the world at arm's length from the get-go

This ain't an arms race, it's Apocalypto

The industry's a target, I suggest these labels get low

On top of that, this track is cracked like burnt Brillo (Damn)

Consider me the beast of East Eleventh

VIP, all day, AK47

If words is weapons, then get to steppin'

My arsenal's enough to send Hell's Angels to Heaven

I'm cool as the Fonz, and deadly as Charles Bronson

I'm Gonzo, you can call me Travie S. Thompson

Go 'head, and you can choose a similar path

But don't gas yourself up like Sylvia Plath, jeez

Watch Travie take the title with ease

You want a verse, please, I wouldn't bless you if you sneezed

(Achoo!) Pardon me, I'm allergic to bullshit

Got a God complex with a full clip, pow!

[Verse 2: Tyga]

The leader, man; Tyga-man make you leave your man

Ladies man take your mate

Literally, this song got me checking out my range

With no piff involved, my swag flyer than a plane

With the unruly attitude; ignorant, arrogant dude

Excuse me, I'm only seventeen (That's my age)

"You're excused, I like your honesty, honestly

You're more mature than the average teen" (Oh, shah)

"And uh, your label family? You must have a team" (Yeah)

Decaydance, preferably, that'll be next for me (Hint-hint)

The rest'll be history, plat-i-um until they stop listening

Then your baby's back like ribs (Ribs)

I know you've been missing me, I almost forgot to mention it

Ever heard a sound like this? (Wow!)

[Pre-Chorus: Patrick Stump]

This ain't a scene, it's god-damn arms race!

This ain't a scene, it's god-damn arms race!

This ain't a scene, it's god-damn arms race!

I'm not a shoulder to cry on, but I digress

[Chorus: Patrick Stump]

I'm a leading man

And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate, Oh-so intricate

I'm a leading man

And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate, Oh-so intricate

[Verse 3: Kanye West]

Now I don't know what the hell this song is talkin' bout

Do you?

She said "Yeah, I been spendin' all day tryna figure that out"

You too?

The arms race made 'em raise they arm

And race straight to the top; Who knew? (Who knew?)

Right now they got that number one spot

Do you want that? (Want that?) Me too

One thing I gotta call out, boy, take a look at Fall Out Boy

Since they ain't black, when they get money they don't ball out, boy

They just buy tight jeans till their nuts hang all out, boy

They figure 'Ye dress tight so we gonna dress tighter

He dress white so we gone dress whiter

So in spite of anything you might've

Seen or heard, this scene occurred, word

[Chorus: Patrick Stump]

I'm a leading man (I'm a leading man)

And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate

Oh-so intricate

I'm a leading man

And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate

Oh-so intricate

[Verse 4: Paul Wall, *Skinhead Rob*]

Ha, come on, expensive taste, *we up in a arms race*

Big money, big crib, big Cadillac (Sho')

Big daddy, boy, I cop big dro sacks (That's right)

Paper stack, big ring, big bling-bling (C'mon)

Try to take big chain, big bang-bang (Pow!)

*I'm going (whoa), I'm going (whoa), I'm motherfucking gone*

*Ain't no signs that I'm slowing though I'm knowing that I'm wrong*

*Bring it on, out to get it, I need cash by the stacks*

*I need a new pair of Stacys and a dash for the 'Lac, jack*

Ha, hear that? Top back [?] grill (Grill)

Coming down on the spiderweb chrome wheels (Trill)

First place in the stunting race, top notch (Ha)

Paint drip-drop, flip-flop, strapped with a Glock

*Live every day like it's my last one; maybe it is*

*And ain't no morrows in my world of sorrow; maybe in his*

*I break ribs, break laws, break jaws at most*

*I still stick to the coast, hold up and reload*

Oh!

[Verse 5: Lupe Fiasco]

There's an arms race, like I'm runnin' on my hands

A dance marathon on my napalms, and

Drop mine's first so that they bombs can't

And Glocks, lasers, missiles, beat rocks, paper, scissors

I built mine's big, better build yours bigger

Built mine's quick so I could kill yours quicker

The number one supplier, the world's largest equipper

The second smallest dier, best non-coexister

I pledge allegiance to gasoline and bulletproof limousines

And leans on the property of the poor

And every night, I pray to the Lords of War

Every man and mac eleven

That all good child rebel soldiers go to AK-47 heaven

And a landmine in every playground that they step in

And you took the footage from the camera on the tips

Of our bullets, and record like former Darfur (Push it)

[Chorus: Patrick Stump]

I'm a leading man

And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate

Oh-so intricate

I'm a leading man

And the lies I weave are oh-so intricate

Oh-so intricate

[Verse 6: Lil Wayne]

Yeah, it's Weezy, baby!

I am your arms dealer, I'm more like an armed dealer

Liter-rally, really, I don't get this song neither

But I'mma figure it out like a palm reader

And, since I be on TV, I turn it on to see me!

Hey, I'm so cool, even I wanna be me

That was totally off the subject

But for me, every song is like pussy so fuck it

Like Fresh, you dug it (You dug it, you dug it)