Twista - Art & Life (Chi-Roc) (Feat. Memphis Bleek, Young Chris & Freeway) Lyrics
f/ Freeway, Memphis Bleek, Young Chris* send corrections to the typist[Intro: Young Chris]Yeah..Young Chris, M-eez, my nigga Free-WheezThe boy TwistaHollaMy life on the track (Okay)Up and comin'State Prop Chain gang (That's right)Get low (Get low)It's the Roc in the building nigga(Holla...Yeah)It's the mother*****in' Roc *****, who hotter than us?(Okay, okay)[Young Chris]Ayo..ever since a young buck, I been on the come upKnown to dish the raw, dish the law if they come upAnd cheddar 'till the sun up..If there's a ransom and the law get involved, then we never get it summed upNever put ya gun up, if ya come round meI go to war wit' niggaz 'round the corner from 'round meYou could front 'round me, but I read through thatWit' the mili' and I ain't talkin' 'bout no Segal macNiggaz see shoot back, we can see to thatHit yo front letters see through back, bring yo peoples backAnd I used to grind out on my friend's spot'til he's mom wanted my Tim-botsNow my paint got me discountsOr trans-quo all around the world, like I was signed to Pimp-dotAnd if it's ten targets and I got ten shotsI'm tryin' to leave at least nine out of them ten shot..[Memphis Bleek]I got my mind on my money, money on mindBut some say its a gift, I don't write but I rhymeI, complete songs with just one tryTell 'em it's no lie, I beef all my life...doggI never think, it's already thereI find ways to say it, so you mother*****ers hear itAnd when you hear it you feel it, you know its real soThis is how I live it, how it's pictured for real...niggaI'm shittin' for realDiamonds against wood, underground king for realBig crib when I lay, yeah I'm livin' for realTrust me the guns come off the shelf whenever shit'll get realAutomatics and extended clips, that's what I'm hittin' wit'Dummies in the black rhinoesYeah, they be killin' shitMasked up kidnap shit, that's how my niggaz getChi-town, NYC, that's how my niggaz get..[Freeway]Yes, just picture me rollin'The smith and wesson'll stay goin' put a hole in yo chestIt's just, another hustle paper gettin' made and foldGet mad, you street niggaz finally made itI swoop five, he know the ride, heavily loadedDeliver pies like cake, they go straight through yo payment...yup!Chump...you don't really wanna warWith the State Prop clique, if ya clique shot us, squad upS-P game so damn tough, the 4 4 in the 5th tucked ya'll can't hangTransporter turned rapper, get a camcorder film my lifeStill acclompished, tryin' to fill they cupsThe rap version of Mandela, call my bluffWe still the street dwellers, feel my pain (my pain)I spit a verse and split a clip in the rainA fool-proof when the full force open you up (what!)[Twista]Twista will rock you, you don't want the thug apostle to pop youHostile when I drop you, turnin' everything colossal to fossilesI speak street gospel, all they life I spit words and paint portraitsFor real niggaz that hold down they fortress and serve off of porchesHit 'em in the body wit' the powerful forces, that'll end all your doubtMake you clean up your house, bag up an ounce, hit the dance floor and bounceWe blessed wit' the talent, ***** wit this clique, it ain't gon' be easy'Cause you *****in' wit' Twist if you ***** wit Chris, Bleek and Free-wheezySo speak and breath easy... Or the scutches my future in 3DI like wars, I'm from a city full of vice, lords, and GD'sBreeze and souls, 2-6's, kings, VD's and storesSpanish cobras and all the true soldiers survivin' are goneWatch me spit if for the killers and hustler's, flippin' all the pounds and bricksHate on me I'ma bust at you hoes, and I put eleven down wit' a clipNiggaz servin' fiftys and hundreds, when I see you and I'm on yo tipTwista and this East-Coast regime, it's that chi-roc shit
