Lyrics:
used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 platnum albums, you call me weak
Cause I don't sell records in the East
Now what's funky, I say
The way they used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 platnum albums, you call me weak
Cause I don't sell records in the East
Now what's funky,
'cause they take her goods
Play with me it's guaranteed, ooh, I'm a lay ya down
Gotta watch my back across my tracks, God know, I know these clowns
God
Illest in the game, GED with the flame (Q)
First off, let me get this shit cleared
Any nigga talk, prolly get his shit smeared
Back in the trunk, next
focus" (I-I-I love Chris Rich)
Yo, then something's telling me, "Just focus", then something's telling me, "Don't look back"
Then something's telling me
strengthen me.
When faced with evil, give me wisdom.
Give me peace & keep me humble.
Produced By: King Chris for ELR Music
Co-Produced By: Keith Keahey
Feed on the dead
Songwriters: Chris Barnes / Terry Butler / Greg Gall / Steven Swanson
Feasting on the Blood of the Insane from the Six Feet Under album
abusin me
But as the time went by I got another slimmy
And she was just like the first one screamin gimme
But not in the exact same way
She had a different
slammin' albums
BDP rocks consistently
From criminal minded to nineteen-ninety
Why? Well that's my secret baby
Here's a hint: the public pays me
So
roarin'
Flyin' through the city with the pedal to the floor then
I put them 26 inches on the curb, tell the hood I'm back
Give me a corner, let me serve
friends get with me and my friends
But don't bring your ass by and you ain't got no ends
Word is bond it don't stop
Just ease your mind, come along
Writing romantic haiku's on my desk
My counselor walks in breathes down the back of my neck
He tells me he wants to name his Persian kitten Cesar
girls
Fine like the spice girls
I like me Jamaican
Spanish Haitians
And them white girls
Momma used to tell me
Back then
This was my world
Imma be the man
that on the top
Me, myself and the white Chris Rock
I'ma just Beverly Hills
I'ma just showcase mega skills
I pop a piff in my Fanta
I froze my heart
on me I think she'd die for thrills,
Fuckit where my UAV my album least 5 kills,
Now they catch me on a TV, catch me on a reel,
Beat it up over and over she throwing it back and she doing her thing
She calling me poppa and baba and papi
I think she forgetting my name
Woahh
She see
fat
Everything I do they make it out a hashtag ( Hashtag )
Beats produce by Will and every song you gonna run it back
Son getting bigger one day might
want to handle her business
So I guess we'll be back when we finish
I don't want to leave by myself
(Boy, you ain't gotta leave by yoself)
Ooh..
back)
It's gon knock his shit back
Sit back, listening to this rap
RealasChris back, and that's big facts
No one else
Is gonna hand it to me
No one else
back)
It's gon knock his **** back
Sit back, listening to this rap
RealasChris back, and that's big facts
No one else
Is gonna hand it to me
No one else
in the back
Hit the plug, not for a brick
Just tryna rob his ass and dip
Flip a zip back to my six
All these bitches look at me crisp
Like I see my
Let me get the Illmatic
Waves with the clean sides
If this was '94, I'd be Nas
If this was '94, y'all would be Pras
I'm CHRIS WI$E
The bonafide
chris
I know that I been reckless
I know that I was helpless
I know that God protect me from me
During depression
My goals linked to my lessons
My wrongs
Not many get to what I do by any means
Thinking they slick as fuck like the finna befriending me
But let's get back to the music, I'm gone
Outside
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