Lyrics:
But you must be aware that a fly can be swatted by a BK tray (oh, boy)
By the way, yo, here's yours
I know your just sweating me
So, baby, kill
I admit it I admit it
Young nigga by himself he countin up the digits
I admit it I admit
Body count rising while he countin up the bitches
I admit it
Imma be the producer
Put an album out and reach the peak of my music
When the studio's all the way in Vancouver
When my girl and I go on vacation
Lex' dropped low to the ground
Just a young playa tryin' put my bid in
Freaks want to trick that be constantly payin'
Not a ghetto thug they be
you go inside just to realize
Either you're weak or someone lied
See, you spend more time boasting about
What you do than you do
So by the time your
watching them lady CO's if I slip up
Uh Uh
[Chorus: x 2]
[Chris and Sigel talking]
Yo, I'm saying Mac, I know I'm young and all
(Yeah that's what's
in a bodybag
21 with a switch on it call it chris johnson new york jets
Why the fuck you call it that that switch make that bitch shoot out facts
When
you're wise enough knowing she's the one
But feelings can be overwhelmed by love
Now listen boy the best is yet to come
the cocaine, drugs, what a turnabout
You don't got no reason to judge me
Life's a bitch this is Chris Story
I've must've lost my brain
But I was young so I
you'll be wet
Well I was walkin down the street, all by my lonesome
I seen this ugly young thang, said she want some
Well I'm not the type a brotha, who
King Chris Coyne, Total Shams, and Shoeless Jed
Wise Chyld King, Sean and Reshma, Coll and Brian
Darkhorse Jack setting things on fire at Glass
every, master piece
Influenced by street tragedys
Got family, tried jackin me
Alotta fun that'll be...
(Chorus x2)
White postah, steak and lobster
Sautay
Tired of these rappers, tired of these jackers
I'm tired of these dances by these fuckin' backpackers
And I'm sick of all these hipsters, I'm sick
Shopp, man
We... y'know finally reachin' the end of this album and I just wanna thank y'all, like...
I was never a big fan of doin' the whole long talk
You have a call from an inmate in a correctional facility
Inmate, state your name, Darren
This phone call may be monitored and recorded
Press 3 if
Yeah, oh Jin a Ruff Ryder?
What's goin' on?
oh yeah
(Chorus)
(I don't know) why everybody's talking bout me
is he really gonna be a hot mc
asking if
Yo, I bought that album man, it's wack man
I'm tellin you, I don't like it
I'ma be honest man
Honest?
I'm dead up, I'm serious
Serious?
I don't
of bullets when they found him on the road
Lay a fucker down, spray it at him then reload
This that Fergenstein and I be down to let it go
The semi
(Ludacris) Verse 1
I just touched down in killa Cali,
Strapped up my boots,
Got scooped up by Game,
So I hopped up in the coupe,
Gaah, What up
sick, man
Young A.I. and we crew thick, man
Difference between me and you is you be bricklin'
And I ain't never ever done that before (no)
Ye ain't
[Intro]
Yeah I'm with Chris, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
(Hey Chris, what?)
[Chorus]
Boy I guess you thought that I was green
Now I gotta' show you
Unless that muthafucka my wife
That's right
They say, Chris Ray, you ain't never been like this
Just wait for the rest of the album, lil bitch
Wait for
(Obie's your cousin?)
Please believe it, I'm as "Down to Earth" as Chris Rock
Gettin' hit by trucks, starin' at twat
A big cannon in you G-spot
Me not
albums, they got spouses
I dated strippers that trap loud inside they Challengers
To be black and talented, all I've ever been
Took a tour de France
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