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the chop - bitmore poetry lyrics

[intro: bitmore poetry]
ya
ya, ya ya
ya
chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop
yeah
here we go

[verse 1]
a baby is turning inside of you (uh)
a lady on radio hearing you (uh)
or maybe is crazy that feelings are shady coz lately da daisies are under you (uh)

suspended i’m working on something too good
faded i’m smoking on something to good
kush in my pocket
the lean in my cup
irresponsible thinking i should

the lyrics from colour me bad (ooh)
remind me of someone my dad (ooh)
don’t need introduction just need me concoction to rouse up the honour we had

i ain’t been breaking da bread, no (nooo)
sharing is caring they said, no (nooo)
too international
lyrics are factual
n*ggas are dying instead (true)
coping a benz for mom’s (skrrt)
soon as i fill up these palms (ahhh)
with benjamin diamonds and jewellery she gotta have it like right in my arms (cut cut)

n*ggas is fake in they songs
while i be writing my wrongs (prr)
on papers with benjamin franklin faces i’m giving to b*tches in thongs

i pray for my enemies looking for peace
i pray for my n*ggas done looking for cheese
i pray for da hunded and thousands abundance is better than running thee streets

b boy not a cheese boy
just rude boy
ching ching finna cop new toy
when most of ya’ll n*ggas are dozing and everyday posing i’m baking to destroy

[hook]

this that weekend, weekend
finna go chop where we can
girls on top were we stand
i’m a top dawg on every weekend
no pretense, pretense
bang bang now no defense
cross my heart no kidding
ooh god this time no new friends
i have been calling da shots
calling the shots
heat in my kitchen my pots
my pot
recipe whipping dat sauce
whipping dat sauce
money keep coming like b*tches i’m f*cking i’m c*cky coz i am a boss (wooooh)

[verse 2]

i don’t wanna flex, no (nah nah nah nah)
i’d rather be patient for all of the riches to follow back home (come back)
depending on whether you like it or not i don’t give a d*mn n*gga i’m part of smaller percentage of n*ggas that’s working a lot to get better at doing it better so f*ck anybody that running they mouth
bout they jewels about they cars
stupid ass n*gga you ain’t got no bars
everything’s everything even dat wedding ring weed smoke hovering i’m from mars
that’s a fact , look at dat
big boy proving it all on da track
bitmore poetry run it back
big boy proving it all on da track
channeling
all of my thoughts in the right direction (woooh)
severing
all of ya f*cking favourite rappers (woooh)
better be
ready when i come for you and your crew (woooh)
doubling (woooh)
death row doubling, bang

- bitmore poetry lyrics

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