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DJ Premier

Christopher Edward Martin (born March 21, 1966), better known by his stage name DJ Premier (also known as Preem, Premo, or Primo for short), is an American record producer and DJ, and was the instrumental half of the hip hop duo Gang Starr, together with emcee Guru. Born in Houston and raised in Prairie View, Texas, he has lived in Brooklyn, New York, for much of his professional career. Rolling Stone identified Premier as arguably Hip-Hop's greatest producer of all time. more »

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Okay (okay)
Yeah
You know what's up, nigga
(My team) living this American dream
Not a fucking game, nigga
Machine, bitch, Griselda, DJ Premier
(Yuh nuh know this, yuh nuh know this) look

I don't beef on the internet, I approach you
I ain't shooting five with a nigga, I gotta smoke you
My dog said his box just landed, he got his load through (he got his load)
Drive by music, this shit he can pop his toast to (facts)
His chopper smoke and it adios you
My buzz bi-coastal, took the game over like I'm supposed to (ha)
I'm in position you cannot get close to
I got shot in my throat, still got four classics at my disposal
And the bitches admire my ways
I was wilding inside of a cage, now I set fire to stage
Every verse recited is wave
And I ain't writing a page, hardest nigga out 'til I lie in my grave (uh-huh)
Cook the white up in the microwave
You at work tryna get holiday pay, I'm on an island for days
Getting money like Big Meech '06
This Griselda, DJ Preemo shit, motherfucker

Ayo, rich Lord, poor Lord, read the Headlines
'04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes
Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line
Sell another brick and we copping twin fives (skrrt)

Ayo, out in Daytona, Rolex Daytona
Fiend hit it once, fell out into a coma (ah)
John Elliot, MAC-10s out the Rover
Might shoot it 32 times for the culture
Niggas bagging boy, rocking loverboy (ah)
Undercover neighbor, turn the oven on
It only had two bodies, I put another on (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
We sold a thousand bricks after summer gone
Drive-in, the forty-five with the potato lie in the right hand
Dyin' first them burglars flew on the high end
The prices won't drop unless you buy ten
Hopped out the Lamborghini Urus like Guy Fish
In my cell reminiscing when I used to dime pitch
The rhyme sick, K in the 'Vette, Wang trench
"How you doing, Flygod?", Same shit, bigger bag
Cocaine killin' it with the dealer tag (skrrt)

Ayo, rich Lord, poor Lord, read the Headlines (uh huh)
'04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes (yeah)
Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line (uh)
Sell another brick and (yo) we copping twin fives

I skip town with the money, my bitch the accountant
You ever try to board a plane with a brick in your outfit?
You know I work hands on, had to sit in them houses (personally)
Learned from real drug dealers, not from internet browsing
Who cooked the food in the kitchen that they filling they mouth with? (Me)
Then headed West like Deion when he split with the Falcons
Look at me and see a vision of Malcolm (yeah), slightly grinning
But long as we keep winning, I can live with the outcome, uh
Drake had Rihanna (uh-huh), Mike had Madonna (what else?)
But I drove a few bricks through the Carolinas (woo)
It's true that they underestimate you when you're modest
So I'm fronting on 'em every chance I get, to be honest (nigga)
Ask about Griselda, they tell you that we the hottest
Flip whatever I can sell ya 'cause failure won't be an option (nah)
Yeah, I sowed a block together like a seamstress (like a seamstress)
And I lived to rap about it on some Preem shit, let's go

Ayo, rich Lord, poor Lord, read the Headlines
'04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes
Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line
Sell another brick and we copping twin fives (skrrt)

 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger.com