(*Money & Hype talking*)
What you-what you think about that Choppa cat brah
That dude that be aaah, (what the fuck is a aaah anyway
Ain't nobody talk about the Westbank in like ten years
He the first one, what the fuck is a Wild West Biggity anyway
I wish, somebody let me know the n***a be talking bout some crazy shit
What the fuck he tal'n bout, he said his name like three hundred times
In one fucking song), Choppa Style, Chop-Chop-Choppa Style
(what is that he ain't saying nothing, all I know is his name
I know it real well I don't even know his face, what the fuck)

[Choppa]
Just because, I got me deal
Doesn't mean I got a big head, can't hook up with my people and chill
I'ma rap, until I'm blue in the face
To keep my money and my fans understand, I'ma do what it takes
I never was fake, everything I'm spitting is real
I was hungry I was hustling, so I'm getting a deal
Flipping my skills flipping the scale, whatever it takes
I'll put a hater in the dirt, and kick a verse at his wake
Yeah I learned that from Ken, when he had the streets locked
They had the heat that made you fade away, like a bleek spot
They even had lil' guns, sound like grease pops
And so much candy, you would think it was sweet shops
Now I done done shows with Jigga, smoked with Juve
Hooked up with Ja Rule, and felt some booty
Had hoes claiming that, they wanted to screw me
I'm bout my money, not bout what them bitches that would do me
Cause I'm in this to win this, so give me a mic
I'ma spend this and send this, and back to you like
Yeah, I'ma break em off proper-prop
Man fuck a n***a hating, on Choppa-Chop come on
(*Money & Hype talking*)
Man the n***a can't even rap, I heard his Hypeman writing his song
Then I go check out his show, he slanging his winkie the whole show
I don't wanna see his winkie, I wanna see what he talking bout

[Choppa]
N***as going off, what a n***a done told ya
But I got fifty n***as, who willing to show ya
I ain't even talking bout guns, let me blow ya
I got n***as down, from Mararoe to the Magnolia
Yeah, now these n***as getting in line
Like they had scoliosus, and I was bout to fix they spine
And all I do, is spit these rhymes
I don't aim at the bullseye, but I seem to hit each time
And I heard that fake shit, that you said in your song
Let a n***a make money bitch, leave me alone
All that hating and repping, on Choppa-Chop
Can't get mad, just because a n***a hot you not
And you n***as keep on saying I'm whack
But everytime I see your pop's at the corner sto', he giving me dap
Said, (I wish my son could rap that way)
And I write my own rhymes, ask J-J-J-J-J-M-K

(*Money & Hype talking*)
Man fuck Choppa basically, he ain't doing shit
He ain't never gon amount to shit, oh oh there he go
That n***a bout to go on stage dog, there the n***a go right there
Man I sneak that n***a dog, I'm a fool you heard
I'm real with it you heard me, fuck Choppa
(what's up mayn, what's happ'ning dog)
Choppa-Choppa hey, I got that lil' dance now
Choppa Style, Chop-Chop-Chopa Style
I love you boy, can I get a autograph
(man you got that dog), even my girl was tal'n bout
If you hear me, holla aaaah
(I'ma holla at ya, when I get off the stage right
When I get off the stage, alright fa sho fa sho)
Ol' bitch ass n***a come up here talking to me trying to dap me off and shit
I thought you was gon sneak him though brah
I kinda like that song, you kinda like the song what type of n***a you is
Man I'm the one said he was a bitch ass n***a, you went to aggree'ing
But I been talking bout I like that song, man you was talking bout
He was a ol' hoe ass n***a man, what's wrong with you
You just mad, cause he fucked your girl