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The morning number eight, let me introduce you to my best friends, Let me interview you. Hamilton and Hedgehog, they’re matching, nigger, From the eight to the amount of ledge is what you have, my nigger You have met you, I’m so technical, I’m right at you, tab a naco, Of MC watchers, MC doctors, get me apart and test me, I’m deadly, The red scene had to clean it’s act up, The meanest rapper and I mean that rap stuff. Me with the fax, no machine, but I black, Kind of like that patch of green you have when you send something. I am in something, perhaps deep shit, but I rap deep shit, So with every bar I grab a pooper scooper, And toss it at the future like I’m laughing, stupid nooker. Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the illest, Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the man, Chop, chop, chuey, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chuey. Nigger, sure, it doesn’t end, doesn’t end, Who the fuck is him? Charles Hamilton doesn’t end. My hopes got stronger like George Foreman, I’m one of the four and my four is storming Unfortunately, Mat has something prepared for your black ass. So traction has to be a full melody of casualty and fatality Actually, how many times could my out of bc rhyme skills come after me? Letras de cancionesWas I referring to what I say? I don’t give a fuck, I do this shit all day. Starring at her bootylicious constantly, yet she’s never on top of me consciously. But that’s not gonna stop, so therefore I have to be that hot from the top. Remove my bucket? Fuck it, let all unlock it, still in destiny, boy, I don’t give a fuck. Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the illest, Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the man, Chop, chop, chuey, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chuey. Nigger, sure, it doesn’t end, doesn’t end, Who the fuck is him? Charles Hamilton doesn’t end. That ass, I’m ripping it, Madonna with a strap-on, I ain’t fall out of strattel and got back on, Now, what other topic can I black on? Oh, that’s it and oh, that’s it and CHARLE doesn’t give a soul, that’s it. In the all after there is, means I’m so after the best, I might be scratching their neck with every scent pop Holly shit, that did not rock, but unfortunately, hips gotta hop, Get your ass up, dance, or sit down, back up and have a blunt at electricon. Better off, better on, and I better fall in love with a chick who has a ball globe To catch my fits when I throw ‘em. But don’t notice ‘em, I’m in slow motion, and it Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the illest, Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the man, Chop, chop, chuey, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chuey. Nigger, sure, it doesn’t end, doesn’t end, Who the fuck is him? Charles Hamilton doesn’t end. Dinner time I grab me some lamb, in a matter of minutes you’ll be laughing, my man. Remember that white chick? Wasn’t Shirley Temple, but surely, from the temple I make shit simple. Let me give you a riddle, why did the chicken? That’s a question mark, she had to die on my niggen Nigger, figure it out, ‘cause I’m digging for a reason I laugh at this bitch, you dig it? Whoever the bitch is I’m minding my business, scratch the sentence off like chickens Whoa, holly shit, I’m good, in every neighborhood feeling like sug’ Uhm, not night, but every pimple treats broads not right Sure, but it died, I resurrected and had sex with it and passed it right back To the next egg that exit the crib and said Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the illest, Chop, chop, chuey, nigger, I’m the man, Chop, chop, chuey, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chuey. Nigger, sure, it doesn’t end, doesn’t end, Who the fuck is him? Charles Hamilton doesn’t end. From Letras Mania