"Best of Thizzler 2018 Cypher"

[Verse 1: Chuuwee]
Yo yo, Southside, Southside, shout out Jonah Hill, Mid90s out right now, sh*t
Uh, going in I got bars like a lifer
Her ambition and her ass the same size I'ma wife her
Can you name another Unsigned Hype coming liver?
Never posted on the blog but got asked for the cypher
Came smoking through the fog, all cash on the nightstand
Life is such a b*tch and I don't even really even like her
I could f*ck her when I like
A.K.A. I'm so alive, motherf*cker you should try it
Yo I swear this sh*t a riot, look
Speeding like Driver with the yellow bus rider
Couldn't say I don't bust, I made the scraper bust tires
The highest all flyer King Chuuwee say sire
When you speak to me or else I'm tossing peasants to the fire, uh
When I'm online I see carbon copies
I can only be Chuuwee and it's hard to not be
I'm so tipsy I could tumble but my young ho caught me
Benihana waitress was pouring me sake
Walked in all I heard was [?] papi
The rhymes getting hotter than a box of Takis
Tap into the heavens and get [?] to watch me
Catch the ghost and then lose all control my body
Math is too hard, they don't want no problems
We be beefing like Sonic and Doc Robotnik
I'm a South Sac goblin who's also conscious
Prepared for whate'er so I'm not so cautious

[Verse 2: C5]
C5, C5, mic check one two, mic check C5
Ay, Bushrod California
Yo, I'm a rose in the cement I'm a diamond in the rough
Back then they ain't feel me, now they tryna get in touch
If I ain't rocking Revo then I'm probably in the tux
And if the pistol ain't on me then it's, probably in the tuck
I don't promote no gun violence but these n*ggas be wilding
Who's to blame 'em when they parents never give 'em no guidance?
And I don't do too much talking, I like moving in silence
Had to cut my last chick 'cause she said I'm too quiet
Love me for me or don't love me at all
Some homies that I loved, found out they ain't love me at all
Showed me pride signs that they really wasn't my dogs
Gave 'em benefit of the doubt, guess it wasn't they fault
That's my mistake, I was blinded by the fake now I see through it right away
When yo' future bright as day they start to feel some type of way
Biting on my style, so I guess they like the taste
Used to sleep in cars now my condo got a fireplace
Wrote this on the flight today, still jet-lagging man
And I'm the same 5, nothing changed but the status man
They said that I got it now, but I been had it man
My new and old sh*t bumping like it's aftershave
Flexing on my accolades, wanna check my background
Never been a rapper, yeah I used to hold the trap down
Think I'm finna blow, they screenshotting all my Snaps now
She told me no but now them legs open like a pat-down
I don't wanna smash it now, on to big and better things
Everything is everything, I put that on everything
If it ain't the money calling, I'ma have to let it ring
Looked in the mirror seen the realest n*gga I ever seen
Realest one I ever known, baby I'm a stepping stone
I was a kid with myself, I don't need a checking phone
Open up the Spotify, hit it to some reggaehon
LA is my second home, funny I ain't never there
I meant to say reggaetón but ay, Oakland California C5 man IC

[Verse 3: Pass]
Ay, one
It's Pass, look
Hella loaded trying not to crash
Never folded, you don’t gotta ask
Kick it in Sweden mixing weed and Moroccan hash
Came right back to the helicopters and chopper blasts
Police got his ass, another body bag on top of body bag
They found the mountain in the closet stashed
I’m back alive never satisfied
Ever since my nana died sh*t been magnified
Ay, I heard it man I was there when the murders came
When it rains it pours, it’s a hurricane
Look who came before and where he learned the game
These drugs I’m on don’t cure the pain but it help the current pain
I been that n*gga since a n*gga been
This blunt to the neck if you ain’t pitching in, I’m on my sh*t again
Uh, listen patna this a different topic
Ain’t selling dreams tryna flip it got a bigger profit
Ay, smoking broccoli for nutrition
Got to be the tradition too hot to be in the kitchen
Sipping Moroccan mint tea it’s got to be me I’m tripping
God forgive him God forbid he be property to the system
I been tripping as of late, agitated got a lack of patience I don’t have to wait
Treat you like a bag of shake
Clown n*ggas bounce after they ounce get taxed
We don’t get down with that, we bring this Town sh*t back

[Verse 4: Kevin Allen]
Yeah, Kevin
These days the truth ain’t the truth it’s who can debate it
You don’t even need talent you can be famous
Shoot if you aim it, and live in color like the Wayans
Abstract colors beautifully painted, this is fine art you should hang it
In whichever room is your favorite, it’s all how you frame it
I’m, all about placement, Keanu in the Matrix
Sorry for my lateness
In the phone booth changing fits for the late shift
You ever been so broke you could taste it?
So close you ‘bout to start selling dope?
You ‘bout to start telling folks, you got the bricks for high, you ‘bout to flip these pies?
Then everything click just in the nick of time
I be on this mission 365
No plateau, no glass ceiling’s a finished line
Black folk been getting gentrified, pick a side
sh*t I’m sick of being victimized
I hate when n*ggas start preaching trust me I empathize
But I could rap about that bullsh*t anytime
You a sheep in wolves’ clothing, I’m a lion I’m king
Rather be dead on my back then live a lie on my feet
Real n*ggas back in style, ooh a sigh of relief
Close call I hope all fake n*ggas die in they sleep
Get ya’ mind right ‘fore you climb in these sheets
We play hide-and-go-seek, I need some quiet and peace
The f*ckery comes in abundance get as high as you please
Might take some time but if you mine it then the diamonds are free
Then you find out that diamond was a regular rock
Pure coke on the stove, yeah I’m ready to rock
This is Wyclef, Lauryn Hill, Ready or Not
I beat incredible odds, the revolution’s televised so I cut the cable off, like a newborn baby
8 ball corner pocket I’m a pool shark baby
Fresh out the oven let it, cool off baby
I’m so motherf*cking high I could moonwalk baby
I ain’t smoked all day, got my mood all crazy
Can you feel it like Dru Down baby?

[Verse 5: Mistah F.A.B.]
Why they want me to rap after this n*gga man?
Yeah, Dope Era
Uh, peep like a candy bar lil’ sh*t, listen
Uh, ain’t nothing sweet about these bars but listen, I’m ‘bout to score
Call me Mr. Goodbar when I walk through any door
A hundred grand? Ooh, that’s all man’s joy
You keep the Three Musketeers, ‘cause that’s y’all friends boy
I’m about to go nuts, I’m only here for the payday
I pop up at ya’ crib next friday, word to Day Day
I’m raised by them project kids, they momma baby
Might switch my hat around times, man that’s Ray J
Stash money last money on me, word to AJ
Huh, y’all say y’all him but y’all Sheneneh’s
Y’all think this sh*t is a game? No time to play-play
When it comes to kicking this sh*t, just call me Pelé
Back to these candy bars, I’m ‘bout to crunch it all
The b*tch said the work good we slide, or punch it off
Little whatchamacallits, hm, I don’t really f*ck wit’ y’all
Kit Kats or Twix, it’s good, I’m ‘bout to lunch it all
Catch me in the spaceship, I’m floating through the Milky Way
Checking on the ‘gram to see what sucker got killed today
Peanut butter inside, the stick is all cantaloupe
n*ggas like “Damn, Mistah F.A.B. on the camera bro”
Huh, I’m balling on these n*ggas like a alley oop
Hiking in the mud in some thousand-dollar Bally shoes
n*ggas know me when I go, I’m just a Cali dude
n*ggas like “‘Why he act like that?’ ‘That’s just his attitude’”
I put on for the hood, that’s why they love a n*gga
Try to throw the ball to y’all, but y’all got butterfingers
Getting head from yo’ b*tch, and her butt I finger
If you see me with a bad b*tch, you know another singer
But I don’t boot up homie, I leave that Ella Mai
Money over [?] youngin’, that’s what the fella say
Dope Era, sell around the world like Magellan face
Dope Era, we the new Roc-A-Fella up in the Bay
Unk Dame before the fame and I’m the fella Jay
You think I give a f*ck about what a fella say?
n*ggas say they straight but on the tuck, they be hella gay
n*ggas can’t f*ck wit’ F.A., it’s like he selling yay

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Copyright © 2018 Bee Lyrics.Net