36 Inch Chain - Live from Sxsw 2015

Put your hands in the air!

Bitch we be that shit that's right
Number two boo boo straight caca (yeah!)
I smoke ganja with a dreadlocked rasta
Move like Frank you gon' die like a hustla
Move like Jesus die like a martyr
Hell of a choice when you riding a Lamonta
Trynna get some hoes in the hot car
How far is we away, man? Not far
The greatness they claim, not all
Are not, we are those juggernauts!
Me El, we hail
Like a young Che Guevara and Fidel
Castro, cash flow, car full of females
Bad hoes, we in the DR
Any fuck rapper boy gettin' out of line I pray the preacher beat him to the goddamn ER
(ER, ER, ER...)
I spit them country rap tunes like Hee-Haw
Cocaine flow fishscale no re-rock
Take a snort for yourself shawty see he raw
See he raw!
That's you shawty go on snort your nose off
Then put the news in the street Tom Brokaw
Cause of you shawty met a bad stone bitch out of Brooklyn and that Brooklyn bitch straight got broke off
Yeah she called her homegirl from the BX freaky lil 'Rican brought X and we sexed
Couple months later brought 'em down to Atlanta and let 'em style on the 'bamas that's right yeah we flex
Heard she got a baby daddy and a nigga acting aggy runnin' round talkin' 'bout yeah he plexed
Better pray for a ho like he Tebow though cause right now he stay losin' like The Jets

And I walk around like I got a 36" chain
And I walk around like I got a 36" chain

Bitch we be that shit that's right
Light a flare put your thumbs in the air high five
I came for the stash box gimme that
I been waitin' for this all my life

3 AM and I'm still not right
Still awake still away from fading
Crazy
Psilocybin
Why the ride so hazy
Dribble this spit till the street gets wavy
The blitz in pure shit magician
Git to skipping
Not too tall dark and handsome man
But I talk dark for ransoms man
Spit grams at those zombies
Folded origami
Yes I bag the clams
Anyone object to the styles, get a smile and a backwards hand

Peep that felonious face in the place of an angel
Bringing that buckshot back to the table
Been a veteran, earthbound hellion
Try to say grace get a face full of staples
Woke up are the city air smell like maple
If you come straight from New York you relate
If you come straight from another place stay too
Me and Mike got the whole map held safe

Be it NYC or the ATL
From the ceilings of heaven to the gates of hell
We murder death killed every stage we step
Homicide times two better warn yourself, El

Anybody looking for some trouble better self med
We could double dutch in a minefield, hell gets
Just the right temperature, break beat minister
Riverdance cleats on your face for the finisher



Credits
Writer(s): Michael Render, Torbitt Schwartz, Jamie Meline
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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