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MP3 2.6 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
This song features Bisch the Phocks and uses nelly's air force ones beat.
Lyrics
(chorus)
Somebody lined in chalk, you wonder who
Police guns drawn as they talk, you wonder who
Yellow tape round the sidewalk, you wonder who
Pull the trigger boo Bisch, Case and their whole crew
(Case)
Step up to the stage, grip tight on the microphone
Spit my lyrics out cause ya know rap chills me to the bone
Case Closed, bisch the phocks, unmatched competitors
Debating through lines you can call us rhymic senators
Centatures, busting down padlocked doors
Composers of rap better believe we’ve made countless scores
Been spittin since the age of Jurassic, our songs are classic
Fantastic, haters messing with us gonna get they ass kicked
First offenders receive a warning, a slap on the wrist
But if you make us pissed, I must insist, the pain will persist
Better believe my crews the truest of the true so you don’t gotta wonder who
(Bisch)
Speakin of crews, bisch here and I got one too
Started with me and case but steadly grew
You don't know what gangsta is kid, you'd better just shoo
The sight of phocks metal means troubles a brew
Ya, we hit the clubs but we gotta stay true
Caps in my holmes don't mix like bugs in stew
Stay aware, I got the tendency to come out of the blue
Don't have time to see the barrel of the pistol I drew
If you've seen me before then you already knew
One trip up and the bullets stuck in ya like glue
(Chorus)
(Bisch)
Here's a story bout some kid who wouldn't bounce
Thought he was fly but he wasn't worth an ounce
So I crept up behind him, got a knife on his collar
Case covered his mouth so nobody could hear him hollar
Brought him downtown, tied him up, used a gag
Beat him down till he was forced to raise the white flag
Just a lesson to you bitches who think that you're tough
Unless you bring a whole army, you'll never have enough
(Case)
Call for back up kid cause we’re on the loose
I’m telling stories like mother goose with rhymes like doctor seuss
A preacher on his pulpit with nothing but bad things to speak
Rhymes are bleak but as I spit your knees begin to feel weak
Jealousy in the stilt is acceptable as long as you don’t talk
Results are police guns drawn and bodies lined out in chaulk
Equitability is shit to me, I’m not trying for fair
Give me that stare, your life is in danger so be aware
My hand goes for the metal, then bisch’s foot hits the pedal
Cause I aint gonna be around to see the smoke settle