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bump heads - mr. cheeks lyrics

get that thick sh*t, peep how we flip sh*t
atl, nyc, cheeks and gipp sh*t
that’s how it’s going down, this how we do sh*t
stay official on me, hit you with that new sh*t
this that thick sh*t, this how we flip sh*t
atl, nyc, cheeks and gipp sh*t
that’s how it’s going down, this how we do sh*t
stay official on me, hit you with that new sh*t

the mac of the year, i push the cadillac of the year
bring the hot raps and tracks of the year
cheeks and gipp representing from the hood
lets get this money, knew we would, it’s all good
i can’t f*ck around with you corny cats and corny raps
run around in your corny [?] and corny tracks
laid mine, kid and paid mine, i’m talking dues and all
i played to win, mother f*ckers, i refuse to fall

my style is slomo, deface your ass like polo
get fresh like a cursе in the photo
we [?] of the gamе, grip the woodgrain in the rain
didn’t know before it happened but it can

i skate through the city, i keep my whips pretty
keep my music loud and i moves the crowd
strictly business when i’m in this, n*ggas come and get it
stay tipsy, rhymes crispy like a yankee fitted
a bunch of copy cats, these cats love to copy
your invitation’s flattering but yet you rap sloppy
you need to chill, you need something official
weed to fill your backwoods, i got respect up in these crack hoods

know where i’m from?
we’ll keep the words slurred, f*ck up a nerve
went from the dungeon to the curb to serve
remember when we turned up keys to birds
get up and you light that herb

this sh*t’s ill, get out, do my thing and spits real
still call shorty [?]
ain’t nothing change, man, it’s the same old c
n*ggas know my style, the game know me

shoe size 13, label n*ggas in the [?], drop plugs, throw slugs
get hugs, swing hoes like the pros
been in every type of ghetto that you can go
so fear, don’t have none
disrespecting? imma cut ya clean to the bone
in the zone, leave your head flown
wigs twisted, leave you stiff like a perm
first feet on the street, get the god d*mn worm

ayo, the [?], we do the same thing like when we roll
just some more cash, just some more smoke
stay with the white beaters, sh*ll*toe adidas
yo the crib, how we live get us off the [?]

you ain’t know? my turn to burn, your time to burn
break the window pane with this country tw*ng
you know the name, yeah, break left dip, change the script
wrote my own roles with the pro tools
they got a dank head on bankhead
pick up big figures on washington road
it changed the code on the mold
ain’t nothing sweet with cheeks and gipp
if you want to go to war, brother, bring your guns and chips
yeah

- mr cheeks lyrics

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