Chop Chop (feat. Stevie Stone & Wordplay)

Call me the G.O.A.T., we are not the same Levitate, float, go against the grain Buddy just a host, I'm not entertained I just wanna pimp it, no attention, all lame I been going hard since the day that I came, From the A.M. to the P.M., what the f*ck about the plan Little working on my nerves, but the spot for a slam Saw some zombies in the Lu, wait for me to O.K. him I know this pussy nigga didn't say that Send a shockwave through his wave cap Put my balls on the table, feel the wave What you did to the homie, motherfucker, this is payback Homie really know I been bucking, it really Tis nothing to hear nothing I'm head-busting, I fear nothing Stevie Stone and Wyshmaster with hollow tips You ready to pierce something Let me talk about it Pull up to the block with the chop chop Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down This is not your ordinary hotbox Team Stone, niggas, we don't f*ck around When I leave the scene, there's a man down 9-1-1, call the paramedics Self-made nigga, no handouts Big Stone goin' check the analytics B to the dash, C.I.D.E., Blowing out the smoke like a local F.D. Take another toke like one, two, three Blowing out the smoke, well, you know me Catch another pack, got them pounds Find another heater, pop them rounds My fingertips is numb from bagging all this work I'm about to get them racks and stack all of this cash up But doubters say you never had it, never will be nothing There's OGs in the game that say these people clearly bluffing I had it, it's classic, right this, cause my life's tragic Pull up to the block with the chop chop Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down This is not your ordinary hotbox Team Stone, niggas, we don't f*ck around When I leave the scene, there's a man down 9-1-1, call the paramedics Self-made nigga, no handouts Big Stone goin' check the analytics Dressed in all black, yes, I'm black and offended All these cats get smacked for the feelings with your brand It's a shame I'm casting these demons, I ain't packing arena There's some gas in the Beamer, who would've thought I would fall right through a center Man, it's the M, even the devil shoots his dinner The man with his fillers, out for the dinner You out for a spanky, top drop, and the winner Hey, you ain't like my coat though Press your vocal chords right through your nose hole Check your mic, then the level of the chord I need to hear your breathing, sample your vocals I've been loco, skits so crazy It's amazing how I've been lately Oh no, maybe the day they go to get you Right in the Smithers' basement Pull up to the block with the chop chop Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down This is not your ordinary hotbox Team Stone, niggas, we don't f*ck around When I leave the scene, there's a man down 9-1-1, call the paramedics Self-made nigga, no handouts Big Stone goin' check the analytics Pull up to the block with the chop chop Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down This is not your ordinary hotbox Team Stone, niggas, we don't f*ck around When I leave the scene, there's a man down 9-1-1, call the paramedics Self-made nigga, no handouts Big Stone goin' check the analytics