Cri Text & Carnage Instrumentals - No Names (Diss)

Cri Text Evil Money Records what's up
Fuck your little record label nigga
Yall a bunch of No Names
Never heard of ya yo
Life is full of schemers cut throats and dirty dreamers
Hating on the creamers I can smell 'em like the best of refers
Most of them are feigners tryna drag to their level
Like the devil but I settle peace like metal in my mental
I'll rip you like a petal you love me or love me not
Intermediate fams were the first I had to drop
Fat bitch will get popped and the faggot will get shot
When I catch 'em on spot you can't evade the red dot
I'll always love my pop he put food on the table
Unlike that cunt of a mother she choked and whipped me with a cable
Snorting speed up in your nasal when your pregnant with your child
No denial so I'll smile if I rile you up vile
This is wild eight years and not a peep from the wanksta
The fakest crip gangsta cuz rumors say I'll bank ya
But I'd really like to shank ya rob you back and thank ya
No asian boyz to save a pussy and a hater
That ho is fucking nada got her own taste in bad karma
Getting ugly rockin prada tryna fight it with the Dharma
Twins with no father and I'm glad one died
Breathings getting harder for the other now who's cried
You should have never lied I could've treated you right
You know that I was down to ride and for you I would fight
At least later down the line but fuck that I'm just fine
Medical bills in time will surely break the camel's spine
Like that window that I smashed wouldn't let me kick your ass
Customize the siding of your whip and tint the rear glass
With a brick from your yard because I couldn't hit you hard
Hiding in the junkie crack house always play the bitch card
I should've cracked you from the side like that ric across the street
Don't joke with rican midgets now that's beef next time we meet
Shoulder peep always cautious of me had to move
Cuz I'm smooth master of plots you got that pussy groove
Matter of fact everybody in highschool were fools
They stayed partying and drugged while we sold 'em the tools
They was fire we had fuels heartless for an OD
Give me fetti die in an alley and I live happily
And if not you gettin' rocked fuck the age eighteen
I got the Lowell fitted cap never give lip to a G
That's why I clocked you B you skinny chickens had to jump me
Cuz you dropped like rocks knocked out your socks don't ever try to punk T
You ghost up in my city like this nigga talking silly
Like he running Evil Money but I'm making all the honey
This comedy is funny ain't no boss you fucking dummy
Fo really my nizzy you always broke and dressing bummy
Got it twisted I'm tripled OG
I made this record label you did nothing for free
You're a slave to the greeks living on construction sites
Does your family know you muslim and you wanna blow up kikes
And speaking of jew I'm still looking for you
I know you hiding with the Dracut few ducking my crew
You ain't gonna have a clue when we run up on the homeless
Smoking pills sip Coronas when we roll up in Corollas
That's why you couch to couch like that down syndrome bum
Head dinging for a bout retarded swinging random
Ya whole life would go numb if I caught you with the jersey rod
Now you ain't fighting over pot you kept it walkin' fraud
That's how the bitch made do tryna get off on the poor
Learn a nigga's schedule and try to break my safe door
You stupid fuckin fool no doubt it's bolted to the floor
Like the next time I see you and my fist to your jaw
Cri lays down the law with Text and repercussions
Lying death before dishonor so no beatings or concussions
Murder you and your cousin in a public execution
Ya girl already told me I'd be a better dad solution
If you find that confusing it means I fucked your baby mama
Cut your hair like what you doing and she's sick of all your drama
That yee stuff you pursuing and ya jeans like Rihanna
Spend ya chips on your daughter before I'm the baby dada
Brakakakakaka goes my SK off at work
Show how bump stocks work every manager and jerk
Your security sucks like that crooked mouth fuck
I'm the one with guns and drugs I ain't begging for a buck
I came burner tucked every time your were in trouble
But you were high as fuck no wonder niggaz took your bundle
No producer that I'm used to always nodding on the grind
Then you tell me that I owe you when you told me I was fine
Another Dracut faker claiming wanna be Blood
But I know real Bloods and they say you ain't thug
Ya you used to sell bud and you hang with one Crip
First brown house on the left let the mac rip
Like I ripped off that prick gettin' over on Cri
Undercut me take my cuddy so I stole his QP
After signing contracts I should've took your PC
But you wouldn't leave my window crying like a baby
It's alright though everybody knows I taught you what you know
From the bass to the treble beats per minute piano
And if you blow for sho then they'll know your claim to fame
They'll see Evil Money Records and forget you in the rain
Because we use our brains and construct our own lanes
Flowing music in our veins y'all are washed out like stains
We running multiple games we ain't fucking with you lames
Never mention your names cuz y'all are just a bunch of No Names
Just a bunch of fucking No Names
I don't need your beats you fucking Fat Shit
I got Carnage what's up Evil Money Records baby
You wish you were still here
Fuck you too fucking pussy
Pulling your gun like you gon bust it
You didn't do shit on Christmas Eve did ya
Keep that sweatshirt too you fuckin scumbag
I got Evil Money ones coming in
Keep sitting on your fuckin asses
Acting like you big shots
Been around for twenty years
And people still don't know your fuckin name
Acting like you touring to Japan and shit
Fuck outta here It's Cri Text mutha fucka
We here we Lowell nine seven eight
Holding it down keeping it real doing it live

Written by:
Christopher Arseniou-LaFlamme

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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