Two-Eleven

Yeah, yeah
Yah yah yah
Chin Chop man man, big boss man
Chin Chop man man, big boss man
Yah yah yah
Big long machine gun; click clack
Yup, tis the season; gimme dat
This is a robbery, son. No cap
I'll split ya fucking wig up, for the cash
Matter fact, you might feel a heater
Little nine millimeter
In your back
Sorry we had to do you like that
If you make a sudden move, then my shorty might snap
Light you up like a cigarette
Then issa wrap

This a stickup, stickup
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stick up
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stickup
Lemme follow with the plan
Take that gwop off your hand then scram
I said
This a stickup, stickup
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stick up
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stickup
Lemme follow with the plan
Take that gwop off your hand then scram
Hol up
Chin Chop man man, big boss man
Big boss man man, Chin Chop man
Chin Chop man man, big boss man
Big boss man man, Chin Chop man
Ok, big man. When mi talk, 'ere yuh fi do
Shut ya mout, listen close, gimme gimme you
Shut it down
Get the code to the safe while I make sure everyone frozen in place
Then we swerving away, yuh
On the first plane
To a place where nobody knows our name
And if dey come lookin for us, dem no brain
Got the microphone aim
And the chopper gon' sang like
Ooh, you let me loose
What did you do
To let me loose
Then issa wrap

This a stickup, stickup
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stick up
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stickup
Lemme follow with the plan
Take that gwop off your hand then scram
I said
This a stickup, stickup
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stick up
Aw man goddamn
This a stickup, stickup
Lemme follow with the plan
Take that gwop off your hand then scram
Hol up
Chin Chop man man, big boss man
Big boss man man, Chin Chop man
Chin Chop man man, big boss man
Big boss man man, Chin Chop man



Credits
Writer(s): Bryan Hearne
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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