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 #


"Get Chopped"

[Intro: E-40]
Game must be focused upon...game
If you ain't got game you ain't got nathin'
(What you say?)
If you ain't got game you ain't got nathin'
Game (Then spit it)

A n*gga spent his last to quadruple his cash
Hopin' that the plane wouldn't crash
Outsmarted the task by teachin' they ass
Bouts the other side of the grass, ugh
I spits the truth from the soil, untold
See 3-40 in ya pager, that's the code
Hit me back even though he's busy off the hook
Plus the hurricane ethyl got him too took
Drug advancements, penitentiary chances
Circ*mstances, gigantic ass leave enhancements
Keep on mashin' though, don't quit
Game Related, comin' from the f*ckin' Click

Now that I made the major leagues
Pushin' big ki's
n*ggas from my block ain't tryin' to see me
I came up too fast for them punks hoes
Now them fools wants to kick in my door
Bringin' over the change if you think that you can f*ck with this
Bam, pops to the dome b*tch
Motherf*ckers hate to see a true n*gga flamboast
Bringin' in more net than gross

They wants to kick in my spot
Boom, get chopped
They wanna take me for what I got
Boom, get chopped
They wants to strike through my block
Boom, get chopped
But I'm up on they plot
Boom, get chopped

b*tch, feelin' evil like Knievel lookin' for a wrench
Gotta a couple screws loose like the grinch
Problem child ain't got no problem with disposin'
Lose me temper, lose me cool but on the same token
He ain't gon' bust a grape, E-40, mayne, that n*gga fakin'
You fail-ize I'll have ya whole family wind taken
Paper hatin' haters get put in they place
Crevice achin', back and get scratched in the face

n*ggas from the other side of town be talkin' big sh*t
Actin' like they wanna f*ck with my Click
But the sh*t ain't changed f*ck the rap game
Hillside n*gga on a mission to proclaim
My motherf*ckin' spot in society
Southside n*ggas just jealous, they doubt me
Punk n*ggas lookin' for a reason
To kick off some ruckus to start the funk season


I f*cks b*tch after b*tch, n*gga, get rich
Don't you know this The Click?
V the hundred SL's what a n*gga straight smash
One hundred thousand in cash

Follow the leader, trip off how the game gets deeper
The more I teach 'em, the dumber I get
Dizzy-izzy, hey Shot, these tardy n*ggas kill me
But what they don't know is I fly their cerebral cortex like a Frisbee
f*ck 'em and feed 'em
Pistol whip they ass and bleed 'em
Stuck 'em and read 'em
Find out where they snooze and sleep 'em
You pearl tongues need to stop workin' for them cops
Rat-heads don't get no props, BEOTCH!

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 #

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