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chop style - lex bratcher lyrics

[verse 1: lex bratcher]
yeah, huh, yo, okay, wow
looking at the clock
i can see the time hours
that’s just me, myself and i
’cause i second hand smoke every minute hand out
took the cannon on a trip
you know how it panned out
caribbean for a hit
for a couple bands i employed
shorty sells .50 sea sh*lls on the sea shore
eagle to his head
he really an island boy
no kids but she asking me to buy them toys
she want me to bop it, twist it and fl!ck right per noise
she making, i’m liking the taste and i might implore for miguel
got me talking all i adore for it
d*mn, when i’m done i can tell why she hate me
mad i can’t give her cat babies litter
and even if i could get her pregnant
i’d be bussing on the couch
ain’t my girl, you my babysitter
lex stop
please you joking
being high heals, that’s all that weed i’m toking
i’m the realest chosen
millions like “that’s my girl”
and ain’t n0body coming to see you otis
the season moe k!ll the trees is potent
more gas needed than 18 wheeler road trips
off caffeine and i’m fiending to speed the lotus
in the pass seat, i can’t tell if she peed or soaking
like glass half empty champagne been poured up
ass i’m gripping, she want me to give them hoes up
you don’t wanna see me bella noche
i turn into a savage
i’m a dog like where you been loca
many mens wishing for my many ends, hold up
hit the benz, bulletproof tints in the whole truck
if you can’t go to bella noches where the h*ll could you go
i don’t know, but we finna have it tore up
[hook: joey cool]
watch out
n*ggas tryna see what the ops ’bout
i ain’t tryna see what you talkin’ ’bout
everybody ’round got chops out
up, up, up with the stock now
cut, cut, cut, getting stockpiled
why you over there getting hostile
i ain’t talking ’bout next, n*gga right now
chop style
everybody ’round got chops out
(chop style, chop style, chop style)
chop style
n*ggas tryna see what the ops ’bout
(ops ’bout, ops ’bout, what)
watch out
why you over there getting hostile
(oh my god)
chop style
it’s some real n*ggas in the spot now

[verse 2: king iso]
iso
i’ll pull up in the physical for woofin’ on the meta hater
bet i’ll make ya tell the world peace like i’ll catch ya later
you are not a stepper like i’ll guess i’ll take the elevator
walking down on any hoe problem i’ll de*escalate*her
metal make a broke n*gga holy ’cause my cheddar grater
bad boy, no mace, i’m a pepper sprayer
tell the reaper that the ghost got a better flavor
and for principles this chopper taller than a second grader
b*tch give me brain she an educator (ooh wee)
go bananas in the b*tch vanilla wafer (ooh wee)
milk the whole game, find a better player (who me?)
no insurance i’m a self medicator (truly)
no arnold and vanessa when the lead erase her
i be working hard, was only right that i was lead to paper
get ya babe and treat her like a tekken player
’cause i be laying down law, f*ck a legislature
better invest in a vest for investigators
’cause it’ll be up, no questionnaire
never will i land like several acres
or jeff or mj, suggest the lakers
who can try me
then they catch the vapors and vexed i make sure
the best debaters are dead like they sure just met their maker
ya b*tch call me father like confession makers
bet i’ma gas everyone, f*ck a mega saver
i go luthor with lex how i the stress the capers
making her walk her down without a texas ranger
f*ck are they talkin’ ’bout, i’ll text rosetta later
funny how i’m indy and i’ll press a major
just to run it up i’m finna test a pacer
what my cd sees without a ventilator
these emcees won’t breathe, go get a respirator
motherf*cker
[hook: joey cool]
watch out
n*ggas tryna see what the ops ’bout
i ain’t tryna see what you talkin’ ’bout
everybody ’round got chops out
up, up, up with the stock now
cut, cut, cut, getting stockpiled
why you over there getting hostile
i ain’t talking ’bout next, n*gga right now
chop style
everybody ’round got chops out
(chop style, chop style, chop style)
chop style
n*ggas tryna see what the ops ’bout
(ops ’bout, ops ’bout, what)
watch out
why you over there getting hostile
(oh my god)
chop style
it’s some real n*ggas in the spot now

- lex bratcher lyrics

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