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Chino Xl

Genres: Hip-Hop

What You Got Lyrics - Chino Xl

Y'all coward niggaz make a nigga like me laugh, 

what the fuck? yea, yea. chargin y'all niggaz 

yea, yea. behold the only thing greater than yourself 

 

(1) 

I'll slash ya grill, don't start me 

You'll be the only entertainer with less groupies than Biz Markie 

I'm never dull, Chino the pretty thug, style centerfold, 

I'll have every latin in the country aimin at ya skull 

I'll aim it at the Pope if he claimin he sellin the most dope 

My Jersey blocks is locked tighter than prisoners hold soap 

And listeners where we vote out ya CD and vinyl, the final result 

Yell, fuck tricks and smoke, till our vocals combine with a Colt 

They playin this in every club, whip, party and bar you in 

Give you more blood clots than two jamaicans arguin 

Sweat till ya fake silver platinum chains is tarnishin 

Women shakin they ovaries, look what we accomplishin, what. 

 

() 

We got better lyrics than you got "What You Got?" 

We got better bitches than you got "What You Got?" 

We run with more killas than you got "What You Got?" 

We got better whips than you got "What You Got?" 

We got better cribs than you got "What You Got?" 

We got better bitches than you got "What You Got?" 

We run with more killas than you got "What You Got?" 

We got better lyrics than you got "What You Got?" 

 

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(2) 

Coming to kill me, I cant hear that 

Fear is a stimulus I haven't been programmed to feel yet 

Snatch you outta your Roots like I'm from Illadelph 

What I do to push your hairline back, Rogaine wont help 

My Quest for the Wealth, like Stone Cold Austin's quest for the belt 

I mention myself as a celestial cell, an extension of hell 

At a lynching I smile, cut myself down, murder your guest list 

My style never a drag like they do black men in Texas 

Next rapper to mention this, I'ma show them the real threat 

Cause I'ma ride till my daughters like "Daddy are we there yet?" 

Ain't no priest in the streets, only drugs before miracles 

See more keys than a lot of Hammer's repossessed vehicles 

Told you I was coming, you ain't believe I'm assumin 

If we all super heroes, these bitch niggaz must be Wonder Women 

Fist to fist, skin to skin, I make you fall flat 

Brat little niggaz, the tat on my shoulder cover they whole back 

Cant hold back, splatter they whole rap to match my ((?)) 

Shittin on MC's, wipin my ass on they notebooks 

How the broke crooks in videos leave me stressed 

I'll turn on channel 2 if I wanna CBS, bitch 

 

Photos 

 

(w/ slight variation) 

 

(3) 

Least but not last, I'll blast an informant 

Until he has the cash to put end to his torment 

Now shine up the brass for his coffin 

I'm last of the rawest, my passion ain't dormant 

I've mastered the forces, I rap to the , 

My cast is enormous, I'm fast and I'm cautious 

Twenty inch arms stronger than forklifts 

Smoke hash in front of reporters till I choke and they nauseous 

And smash through the glass of your Porsche's 

Show you how Newark is as hard as divorces 

Lay you out dead in the grass on the forest 

My craft is flawless, have ya flesh wrapped in a blackened sausage 

Blood Splashed across it for rhymin like a fag in a cordless 

Murder all witnesses, nosey, standing on porches, 

Like torches, super human, Chino's skin never scorches 

Drape your family reunion in black funeral mourners 

Have cats that sell ya drugs for you, avoid usual corners 

I never lost this mad lust to be rap's Colossus 

Breakin companies, Jersey got women strapped inside they office 

I got. DJ Supporters and women makin sex offers 

I got. A crib like a fortress, tuition for all my daughters 

I got. Rhymes hot like sauna's, and thousands from Time Warner 

I got. Killas on every corner, surrounded by jewish lawyers 

What what what. 

 

(w/ slight variation) 

Writer: ,

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