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del 2 - chess national cypher lyrics

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[verse 1: stella mw-ngi]
i do it, do it best, yes, when it’s crunch time
i look too good to even need a punchline
tell ’em boo-hoo, yeah, the girl go wild
the old sound old when i’m on that new, new
yeah, i’m on that new, new, and it ain’t nothing you can do
your stinky little feet can’t fit in my shoe
so bye bye, see you another time
nah, i’m just lying, i’ll never say hi
my sh-t about to blow, you act like you don’t know it
next star shooting, you can bet my name on it
then you say: ”stella, take me under your umbrella”
then i say: ”b-tch, where was you when i was held up?”
held up, trying to shoot, show what i can do
but then you say new, then i go ”look at you”
yeah, that girl flossing, floss like i’m bossy
this is the last cypher you’ll see, cause you know my sh-t costing

[verse 2: adam tensta]
i’m surrounded by so many luck-seekers
clinging on my hip like beepers
a handfull of drop dead gorgeous
the rest are like porches
standing on ’em on the way out, leave us
i’ve always been considerate
understanding why they would want to kick it
cause we some fly n-ggas living off of what we vision
there has never been a track that we haven’t slained, homie, listen
respect my hustle, and it’s to the day that i ain’t livin’
how many people you know living in their dream, huh?
is that the reason why you hating on the team, bruh?
cause i was just on everybody
and i’m looking to the sky for a sign like a libra
or should i change my name to lottery?
change my name to poverty
do it like you do it, never let out what’s inside of me
f-ck a hater, you can search all your life, if you’re looking for my apologies

[vers 3: jae-r]
whoever is in my categor, tell ’em i aboard them
here comes the young matador, i brought a couple hors-m-n
who carry crosses like virgin mary had abortions
to p-ssy rappers, i’m cat daddy, you orphans
re-re-recognize, f-ck being humble
i’m trying to fill up banks, like fresh prince’s uncle
b-tches deserted me like after the entrée
so i wrote the recipe like can wrecking andré
on my indy flow, bo-bo-bombay
even jesus knows, i take ’em to church, keep your arms raised
h-ll hath no fury, i rap bible verses
quiet storm, this is silent murder
without a black burner, i let the raps burn ya
k!lling ’em all, watching ’em die like m-ss murder
before we say good night and close the casket
tell ’em i’m a slave to the music, but i own my masters

[vers 4: pete]
min mikrofon stil er et monster
dreper emcees, så legger ned blomster
hemmelig sekt, de konspirer, og så skjer det sånn
vågsbygd handy, går som megatron
kondensspor, oppstår når vi skriver sånn
atombombe flow, måles i megatonn
de kloner mann for en fremtidig krig
tre fjerdedelers skala mini-me
og millioner av oss, ubeskrivelig
se oss high-five i timesvis
siste mohikanere, en trua art
sitter døsig i hjørnet på en ukjent bar
videre, ingen vet hvor vi går
halvt darth vader, halvt petter pilgaard
vi gir på, produkt som på en vingård
de gir meg beats, som jeg går helt maskin på

[vers 5: phil t. rich]
siden sist gang jeg var her, ville alle bli mine venner
tilbake i denne hora som om jae skylder meg penger
baba, jeg føler meg så awesome
din favoritt rapper har gjort det i ti år, jeg ha’kke engang starta
alle i svovel sitter lavt, vi sitter høyt
rapperne vil ha meg på skive som nora syltetøy
kjærlighet til folka som ikke liker trynet
men dette trynet kommer du til å se jævla mye
kjærlighet fra linje tre, det som skjer er det som skjer
hipsterne elsker neger’n som om navnet mitt var paskalev
baws gang er her, lillemann
ta bilde mens vi baller, b-tch, vi kaller det instagram
moccamann i følge plumbo, for mitt team er shaka zulu
sitter på en høy hest, kall det polo
tangerudbakken, flowen er mongo
baws gang, finn oss i toner
f-ck å være rapper, vi skal bli ikoner

denne teksten kommer fra rap g*nius norge!

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