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no introduction - chris walder lyrics

verse 1
ok homies, lets start rappin’
first time in the studio i ain’t cr-ppin’
bottles on ice, roaches in the tray
and everyone be singing like today be the last day
fake rappers ain’t quite making the cut
so my boys they decided, to step the f-ck up
this ain’t a rap game thriller rap is our last name
and we ain’t gonna stop until fame is the name of the game no shame
can’t blame my white boy name
we all the same just players in the game
tryna make a claim
don’t look at my window frame i might just take aim
inflame the blame no insurance claim no pain don’t look
straight at me don’t make me pull the f-cking trigger
my gun be bigger, your girl a gold digger
and everyone knows that i’m the winner

verse 2
me and my homies just trying to make our ends meet
and who you to say we can’t do it to a rap beat?
everyone tryna to make their name in the rap game
but spanish rap disgusts me no wonder they don’t trust me
i got sh-t on lock imma call it rap custody
it’s not about the money imma drop my first tape for free, smoke trees
n-i-c and louis v, togetha we the 3 we a team
won’t be long till we’re stacking paper bricks
parties full of chicks, shots in the 6 with them thots who ain’t sh-t
na, i’m just playing with you, we don’t get down like you, we on another level
watch with the rotating bezel embezzled no need to change no batteries
i’m just here trying to save some trees
so you better make sure your girl ain’t on her knees
down in-front of me coz hoes ain’t loyal my game so royal
got her thinking bout me while she rub her man’s back in oil
her p-ssy like a kettle that sh-t about to boil
i feel so spoilt

verse 3
watch what you say don’t you dare look away
please stay, what you say? replay..
talking sh-t straight at me like it’s inauguration da-ay..
grow some b-lls and guts and come back at me in a big way no joke
i ain’t playing, come at me like pac came mma
please do not chicken away write a song that makes your game day
press play hood chicks will all come your way and you’ll all be sippin’ perrier
dom p in our fridge that be how we play
roll another joint up i don’t feel like going anywhere

- chris walder lyrics

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