Duck Sick

(You was jealous, it's all your fault)
What's up, punk?
(You was jealous, it's all your fault)
Pretty soon, it's a homie you're grievin'
(You was jealous, it's all your fault)
Got beef? What a pity
(You was jealous, it's all your fault)

Back for the payback, black, you came up shorter
Geah, your ass is out, Eiht wrote a-
Nother funky rap about your jealous track
How you diss C.M.W, boy, you ain't said jack
Your senses should tell ya, kick it, don't be a hero
Equipped to whip is Eiht, unlike a zero
I gotta hitcha, or get witcha
Sit down, clown, I commence to paint a picture
Hmm, it's kinda funny, but yet somewhat amazing
Take you serious? I think about it while I'm blazing
Only then will my reaction show
How I chill and let my tempo flow
Too Sorry is the name for your rap
No competition, dissin', boy, you need to be slapped
Eiht ain't no punk, so learn it quick
Oh yes, P.S., C.M.W., and you can get my duck sick

(You can get the duck sick)
You can get my duck sick
(You can get the duck sick)

I don't believe it, how the hell'd you get on wax?
Makin' demos on your tape deck tracks
You did a show, and I heard it was wack
You tossed our records, think I tossed right back
You got the nerve, tryin to go down like a trooper
In better words, you go down like King Koopa
So stop your little dissin', saying that I can't handle
I put your lights out, you have to rap by a candle (aw yeah!)
Go head up punk, or sell out, I know you must've
Heard the word, new jack, I'm not a buster
Always down to bust a record, a party, know what I mean?
But unlike yourself, sucker, I do it for cream
So period, end of story, don't even bore
Me, Tha Chill MC, claim to glory
So that's it, the Eiht and Chill is the—
(Chill) word, and you can get the duck sick

(You can get the duck sick)
Now you can get my duck sick
(You can get the duck sick)
Geah, get the duck sick
(You can get the duck sick)
Get the duck sick, word up
(You can get the duck sick)

Wait a minute, hold up, son, I know you're flakin'
Sayin' E can't hang, you must be fakin'
I'm not a rookie, meaning a beginner
If fakin' was a sin, you'd be a sinner
Load up my mic and gat to start gunnin'
Fresh off the Compton streets, so start runnin'
You come across like a two-bit sucker
Tryin to compare with E you a clucker
Punk, they call me Eiht, so give me respect
I heard you did a show on your Mom's tape deck
Fool, you fucked up smooth tryin' to diss
A victim of a violent crime on the list
So wake up and smell the bud, little pupils
Tryin' to go head up, punk, you got no scruples
Conflict you pick, you're sick
You can't fade us, but yo, you can get the E's duck sick

(You can get the duck sick)
You can get the E's duck sick
You can get the duck sick

Now, who got you hip to be a rapper?
You sorry jackass (punk whipper snapper)
Just take a step back, and boy, start peepin'
On Eiht and Chill (geah, ain't no sleepin')
Quiet as it's kept, the news'll spread like AIDS
Hip-Hop, C.M.W. gets paid
Always down to dunk the funk
Or clownin' down a weak-ass punk
The beef you got, to Chill, don't mean shit
Just a test I have to pass to show I'm on hit
And Tha Chill's on hit, legit
With the E, I don't quit
I grab a chair and a whip like a lion, suckers I'm tamin
Peel a cap and snap on the mic, because I'm gamin
So watch me rip, 'cause you suckers is on a ego tip
(Stupid suckers) yo, you can get Chill's duck sick

You can get the duck sick
What you say, E?
Get the duck sick
Get the duck sick

Yo, who want the duck sick now?
My man Unknown want the duck sick, E
My man DJ Slip want the duck sick
Word 'em up, Mike, we be boomin' on the boards want the duck sick
My DJs Ant C and Mike T want the duck sick
(You guys are sick!)



Credits
Writer(s): Aaron B. Tyler, Terry Keith Allen, Andre P. Manuel
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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