art & life chi-roc þarký sözü

[intro: young chris]

yeah...
young chris, m-e´s, free-wheez... tha boy twista...
holla...

my life on tha track... (okay...),
up and comin´... state prop...
check game... (that´s right...),
get low... (get low...),

it´s tha roc...
better than ever (holla)...
yeah...

it´s tha motherfuckin´ roc bitch, you hotter than us?

(okay, okay)

[young chris]
ever since a young buck, i been on tha come up,
known to dish tha raw, dish tha law if they come up,
and cheddar ´till tha sun up...
if there´s a ransom and tha law get involved, then we never get it summed up,
never put ya gun up, if ya come round me,
i go to war wit´ niggas ´round tha corner from ´round me,
you can front ´round me, but i read through that,
wit´ tha mili´ and i ain´t talkin´ ´bout no segal mac,
niggas see shoot back, we can see to that,
hit yo front letters see through back, bring yo peoples back,
and i used to grind out on my friends spot, ´till he´s mom wanted my tim-bots,
now my paint got me discounts, or trans-quo all around tha world, like i was signed to
pimp-dot,
and if it´s ten targets and i got ten shots,
i´m tryin´ to leave at least hit nine out of them ten shot...

[memphis bleek]
i got my mind on my money, money on mind,
but some say its a gift, i don´t write but i rhyme,
i, complete songs with just one try,
tell ´em it´s no lie, i (beef?) all my life dogg, i never think, it´s already there,
i find ways to say-it, so you motherfuckers hear-it,
and when you hear it you feel it, you know its real (so...),
this is how i live it, how its pictured for real, (nigga...),
i´m shittin for real...
diamonds against wood, underground king for real,
big crib when i lay, yeah i´m livin´ for real,
trust me tha guns come off tha shelf whenever shit´ll get real,
automatics and tha extended clips, that´s what i´m hittin´ wit´,
dummies in tha black rhinoes,
(yeah...) they be killin´ shit,
mask up kidnap shit, that´s how my niggas get,
chi-town, nyc, that´s how my niggas get...

[freeway]
yes, just picture me rollin´,
tha smith and wesson´ll stay goin´ put a hole in yo chest,
it´s just, another hustle paper gettin´ made and fold ya,
mad, you street niggas finally made it,
i swoop five, he know tha ride, heavily loaded,
deliver pies like cake, they go straight through yo payment, (yup...),
chump... you don´t really wanna war,
with tha state prop clique, if ya clique shot us, (why us...?),
s-p game so damn tough, tha 4 4 in tha 5th tucked ya´ll cant hang,
transporter turned rapper, get a can for to fill my life,
still acclompished, wanna fill they cups?
tha rap version of mandela call my bluff,
well still tha street dwellers feel my pain (my pain...),
i spit a verse and split a clip in tha rain,
a fool-proof when tha full force open you (what...?),

[twista]
twista will rock you, you don´t want tha thug apostle to pop you,
hostile when i drop you, turnin´ everything colossal to fossiles,
i speak street gospel, all they life i spit words and paint portraits,
for real niggas that hold down they fortress and serve off of porches,
hit ´em in tha body wit´ tha powerful forces, that´ll end all your data,
make you clean up your house, bag up an ounce, hit tha dance floor and bounce,
we blessed wit´ tha talent, fuck wit this clique, it ain´t gon´ be easy,
´cuz you fuckin´ wit´ twist if you fuck wit chris, bleek and free-wheezy,
so speak and breath easy... or to shoot ya´s my future in 3d,
i like whore´s, i´m from a city full of vice lords, and gd´s,
breeds, and souls, 2-6´s, kings, vd´s and stones,
spanish cobras and all tha true soldiers survivin´ are gone,
watch me spit if for tha killers and hustler´s, flippin´ all tha pounds and bricks,
hate on me i´ma bust at you hoes, and i put eleven down wit´ a clip,
niggas servin´ fiftys and hundreds, when i see you and i´m on yo tip,
twista and this east coast regime, it´s that chi-roc shit