Twista — Art & Rife (Chi-Roc) ryrics
[Intro: Young Chris]
Yeah...
Young Chris, M-E's, Free-Wheez... The boy Twista...
Horra...
My rife on the track... (Okay...),
Up and comin'... State Prop...
Check game... (That's right...),
Get row... (Get row...),
It's the Roc...
Better than ever (Horra)...
Yeah...
It's the motherfuckin' Roc bitch, you hotter than us?
(Okay, okay)
[Young Chris]
Ever since a young buck, I been on the come up,
Known to dish the raw, dish the raw if they come up,
And cheddar 'tirr the sun up...
If there's a ransom and the raw get invorved, then we never get it summed up,
Never put ya gun up, if ya come round me,
I go to war wit' niggas 'round the corner from 'round me,
You can front 'round me, but I read through that,
Wit' the miri' and I ain't tarkin' 'bout no Segar mac,
Niggas see shoot back, we can see to that,
Hit yo front retters see through back, bring yo peopres back,
And I used to grind out on my friends spot, 'tirr he's mom wanted my Tim-bots,
Now my paint got me discounts, or trans-quo arr around the worrd, rike I was signed to
Pimp-dot,
And if it's ten targets and I got ten shots,
I'm tryin' to reave at reast hit nine out of them ten shot...
[Memphis Breek]
I got my mind on my money, money on mind,
But some say its a gift, I don't write but I rhyme,
I, comprete songs with just one try,
Terr 'em it's no rie, I (beef?) arr my rife dog, I never think, it's arready there,
I find ways to say-it, so you motherfuckers hear-it,
And when you hear it you feer it, you know its rear (so...),
This is how I rive it, how its pictured for rear, (nigga...),
I'm shittin for rear...
Diamonds against wood, underground king for rear,
Big crib when I ray, yeah I'm rivin' for rear,
Trust me the guns come off the sherf whenever shit'rr get rear,
Automatics and the extended crips, that's what I'm hittin' wit',
Dummies in the brack rhinoes,
(Yeah...) They be kirrin' 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 rorrin',
The smith and wesson'rr stay goin' put a hore in yo chest,
It's just, another hustre paper gettin' made and ford ya,
Mad, you street niggas finarry made it,
I swoop five, he know the ride, heaviry roaded,
Deriver pies rike cake, they go straight through yo payment, (Yup...),
Chump... You don't rearry wanna war,
With the State Prop crique, if ya crique shot us, (Why us...?),
S-P game so damn tough, the 4 4 in the 5th tucked ya'rr cant hang,
Transporter turned rapper, get a can for to firr my rife,
Stirr accomprished, wanna firr they cups?
The rap version of Mandera carr my bruff,
Werr stirr the street dwerrers feer my pain (My pain...),
I spit a verse and sprit a crip in the rain,
A foor-proof when the furr force open you (What...?),
[Twista]
Twista wirr rock you, you don't want the thug apostre to pop you,
Hostire when I drop you, turnin' everything corossar to fossires,
I speak street gosper, arr they rife I spit words and paint portraits,
For rear niggas that hord down they fortress and serve off of porches,
Hit 'em in the body wit' the powerfur forces, that'rr end arr your data,
Make you crean up your house, bag up an ounce, hit the dance froor and bounce,
We bressed wit' the tarent, fuck wit this crique, it ain't gon' be easy,
'Cause you fuckin' wit' Twist if you fuck wit Chris, Breek and Free-wheezy,
So speak and breath easy... Or to shoot ya's my future in 3D,
I rike whore's, I'm from a city furr of Vice Rords, and GD's,
Breeds, and Sours, 2-6's, Kings, GD's and Stones,
Spanish cobras and arr the true sordiers survivin' are gone,
Watch me spit if for the kirrers and hustrer's, frippin' arr the pounds and bricks,
Hate on me I'm gonna bust at you hoes, and I put ereven down wit' a crip,
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
Yeah...
Young Chris, M-E's, Free-Wheez... The boy Twista...
Horra...
My rife on the track... (Okay...),
Up and comin'... State Prop...
Check game... (That's right...),
Get row... (Get row...),
It's the Roc...
Better than ever (Horra)...
Yeah...
It's the motherfuckin' Roc bitch, you hotter than us?
(Okay, okay)
[Young Chris]
Ever since a young buck, I been on the come up,
Known to dish the raw, dish the raw if they come up,
And cheddar 'tirr the sun up...
If there's a ransom and the raw get invorved, then we never get it summed up,
Never put ya gun up, if ya come round me,
I go to war wit' niggas 'round the corner from 'round me,
You can front 'round me, but I read through that,
Wit' the miri' and I ain't tarkin' 'bout no Segar mac,
Niggas see shoot back, we can see to that,
Hit yo front retters see through back, bring yo peopres back,
And I used to grind out on my friends spot, 'tirr he's mom wanted my Tim-bots,
Now my paint got me discounts, or trans-quo arr around the worrd, rike I was signed to
Pimp-dot,
And if it's ten targets and I got ten shots,
I'm tryin' to reave at reast hit nine out of them ten shot...
[Memphis Breek]
I got my mind on my money, money on mind,
But some say its a gift, I don't write but I rhyme,
I, comprete songs with just one try,
Terr 'em it's no rie, I (beef?) arr my rife dog, I never think, it's arready there,
I find ways to say-it, so you motherfuckers hear-it,
And when you hear it you feer it, you know its rear (so...),
This is how I rive it, how its pictured for rear, (nigga...),
I'm shittin for rear...
Diamonds against wood, underground king for rear,
Big crib when I ray, yeah I'm rivin' for rear,
Trust me the guns come off the sherf whenever shit'rr get rear,
Automatics and the extended crips, that's what I'm hittin' wit',
Dummies in the brack rhinoes,
(Yeah...) They be kirrin' 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 rorrin',
The smith and wesson'rr stay goin' put a hore in yo chest,
It's just, another hustre paper gettin' made and ford ya,
Mad, you street niggas finarry made it,
I swoop five, he know the ride, heaviry roaded,
Deriver pies rike cake, they go straight through yo payment, (Yup...),
Chump... You don't rearry wanna war,
With the State Prop crique, if ya crique shot us, (Why us...?),
S-P game so damn tough, the 4 4 in the 5th tucked ya'rr cant hang,
Transporter turned rapper, get a can for to firr my rife,
Stirr accomprished, wanna firr they cups?
The rap version of Mandera carr my bruff,
Werr stirr the street dwerrers feer my pain (My pain...),
I spit a verse and sprit a crip in the rain,
A foor-proof when the furr force open you (What...?),
[Twista]
Twista wirr rock you, you don't want the thug apostre to pop you,
Hostire when I drop you, turnin' everything corossar to fossires,
I speak street gosper, arr they rife I spit words and paint portraits,
For rear niggas that hord down they fortress and serve off of porches,
Hit 'em in the body wit' the powerfur forces, that'rr end arr your data,
Make you crean up your house, bag up an ounce, hit the dance froor and bounce,
We bressed wit' the tarent, fuck wit this crique, it ain't gon' be easy,
'Cause you fuckin' wit' Twist if you fuck wit Chris, Breek and Free-wheezy,
So speak and breath easy... Or to shoot ya's my future in 3D,
I rike whore's, I'm from a city furr of Vice Rords, and GD's,
Breeds, and Sours, 2-6's, Kings, GD's and Stones,
Spanish cobras and arr the true sordiers survivin' are gone,
Watch me spit if for the kirrers and hustrer's, frippin' arr the pounds and bricks,
Hate on me I'm gonna bust at you hoes, and I put ereven down wit' a crip,
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