Craig Vill - Chi

This can't be a Craig Vill song
Spoiler Alert
It is
Every-time a nigga go back home
They look at me
And ask for loans
They pack the chrome
Attacking homes
And selling rock
Casting stones
Now they act like me
They trap for free
They walk, talk
Rap like me
They laughed at me
And asked for me
Harassing me
Bout Grammy dreams
I go high
They go low
Take it to hell
Cause they won't go
I know too many that died
First time in a while
Got locked up and finally prayed to god
Told G I love em' and he never came home
I know who did it, never say it in a song
Bullets ain't meant for niggas but they got in the way
Like when one of my OGs got shot in the face
Ten, Nine millimeters
Ate through his Adidas shirts
Seven of them niggas dead
Six of em' went back to church
Five homies got Four scores
Looking for Three more
Two niggas I want dead
And One of em' is on the floor
You see the gang bitch look at us
Dancing on the daisies that all of ya homies pushing up
I been calling Niggas out
Make rap fun again
Reem been needing a reason to get his gun again
Somebody said I can't rap
But I ain't never ask y'all
Having flashbacks about disrespect that I laughed off
Got parked, left his carcass laying out on the asphalt
Say his name again and I'm tweaking right off the bath salt
Yeah
You know I pop my collar
I get groovy
Laser on my body cause he attempting to shoot me
All over the gram he got a thang out
Had a court case
And never made it cause he banged out
Matter fact
I Hate that bitch
Don't go to the parties cause i don't wanna shake that shit
Y'all gon need me
Aim at teezy
Off the heezy
If he dead you gon know
Please believe me
You gon see me
Don't say free me
Who gotta die
His name is Hulio
Put my right foot in
Take my right foot out
Throw this right hook in
It knock a nigga right out
Everybody getting put in they place man
Tryna box but I know it's a waste man
You gon be the first nigga down in the wasteland
Spin back now he got something tucked in the waistband
Ever since she cried I got a feeling she been heartless
And philly need me as a artist
I been toe to toe with the whole city police department
Pray to God I'm a worshipper too
Tryna Save all of the kids cause I'm a nurturer too
Don't get put in the dirt under you
Cause I know all of the murderers too
I know what you want baby you want to dance
They want to know what I do with my hands
They want to know what I do with my mans
Run down on me and I'll do it again
You want to dance
What I do with my hands
They want to know what I do with my mans
Run down on me and I'll do it again
Blessed with the curse of the ink in the pen
Every thing I drop a ten out a ten
Everything you said was all for pretend
Niggas is pussy excuse my French
You want to dance
Do with my hands
Do with my mans
Run down on me and I'll do it again
I'll do it again
Do it again
I know you want baby you want to dance
They don't know what I do with my hands
They want to know what I do with my mans
And Run down on me and I'll do it again
Ink in my pen
Everything I drop A ten out of ten
Cameroonian Goon… Real African Boy

Written by:
Craig Jackson-Johnson

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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