36" Chain

Bi- we be that sh- 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 hassa
Move like Jesus die like a martyr
Hell of a choice when you riding a Lamotta
Trynna get some ho- 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 - we in the DR
Any f- rapper boy gettin' out of line I pray the preacher beat him to the g- 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 b- out of Brooklyn and that Brooklyn b- 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 n- acting aggy runnin' round talkin' 'bout yeah he plexed
N- 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-inch chain
And I walk around like I got a 36-inch chain

B- we be that sh- that's right
Light a flare put your thumbs in the air high five (yeah)
I came for the stash box gimme that
I been waitin' for this all my life
3 a.m and it's 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 sh- magician
Get 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 in a city that smells 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

Great



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

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