Christo Amp - No Hook

What? Champ (Champ, Champ)
Ouu, yea, uh, what? (Yea)
Cool as a fan (Cool as a fan)
Nah, hell nah
You know what it is (Yea, uh)
Cool as a Ice Cube, Straight Outta Compton (Brr)
Christo Amp that dude, straight outta Austin (Straight outta Austin, uh)
Crossin' you up like I'm ballin' (Swish)
I'm killin' 'em I need a coffin, uh
Watch how I ride the beat (yea), my diamonds' play hide n' seek (Say what?)
You walkin' 'round like you lost some'n like Little Bo Peep (Sheep)
Your bitch my main squeeze, uh, got her down by her knees
Niggas try to steal my sauce but, they can't take my stease
In the backyard blowin' on a Backwood
Rollin' up weed all on a MacBook
Writin' down rhymes in a damn notebook
I'm finna rock this beat with no hook (Gotdamn)
I'm finna rock this beat like a stone
These hoes love my Gucci cologne
I am the Future of the 3rd coast
'Cause a young nigga Move That Dope
(Young nigga, young nigga, young nigga)
Women Crush Wednesday all on my phone
I fuck that bitch, you knew that hoe (Haha)
Used to be a lil' nigga with an afro
Now, I get hoes wetter than a tadpole (What?)
I will poke you bitch, voodoo (What?)
That dick make her go cuckoo (What?)
Ridin' on the track, choo-choo
Don't do it like me lil' nigga, do you
Yea, young nigga do you (Yea, young nigga do)
Trill nigga, bang that Screw (Trill nigga, bang that)
Stay cool in the 512, oou shit
Yea, young nigga too lit (Young nigga too)
Don't pull out that heat (Don't pull out that)
'Less you plan to pull it
I had too many straps to the face
Every time I picked up weight
'Cause JV had a new plug
But, he got robbed just the other day
So, we walked up to the door (To the door)
And this nigga lookin' my way (Way)
And he almost motherfuckin' blasted on me
'Cause he swear I had that nigga's face (Fah)
Then I had a quick shake down, uh
Count that money, don't play 'round, uh
Get that bag and I break it down, uh
Then it's back to the A-Town, uh
That's where I stay 'round (Yup)
Treat my city like a playground (Yup)
Treat my city like a palace (Yup)
Flow go hard like callus, I
Fuck an a bitch then I'm done with that (Done with that)
I am the sword of the Thundercat (Thundercat)
Servin' them grams, hand and hand
But, no, you will not get your money back (No, you will not get your)
'Bout my digits' like a calculator
Like an office how I stackin' paper
Club goin' up like a elevator
Then I kill it like a detonator
I'm the one
Lock up with a gun at the age twenty-one (Uh,uh)
But, I'm quick with the hands, if you not, better run (Uh, uh)
See , if I catch ya then you might need a stretcher (Uh, uh)
He gon' need more than a prayer, shit, he gon' need the Reverend (Uh, uh)
You niggas' need a miracle just to compete (Just to compete with me)
All you niggas' amateurs, I'm an elite (Fuck nigga)
All of my bitches' on fleek (Yup)
All of your bitches' is weak (Yup)
Same shit, different day
Get money and repeat (Repeat)
At the crib makin' beats (The beats)
Cook it up, I'm a chef (A chef)
Hit the bitch with the sex
Now, she sayin' I'm the best (Oh yea)
Wake up and I'm blessed (Blessed)
Hit the gym, gotta flex (Flex)
Money, power and respect (Respect)
Is all a nigga tryin' to get (Yea, yea)
Yea, yea
I'm tryin' to get more, too, yea
Hoe niggas'
Fake niggas'
Stay away from me
Tryin' to get to it
Champ
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Please, leave a message after the tone
Chris
Chris
Madre Santa

Written by:
Christopher Amponsah

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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