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joey fatts - chipper jones 4 lyrics

[intro]

[verse 1]
i might just chalk ’em out
bet you this carbon gon’ bring the corners out
you talking loud but ain’t tryna bite, then what that bark about?
my n-gg-s wild
catch you out slipping in front of your b-tch’s house and leave you foul
hollow tips h-t you and blow your noodles out
this that chipper jones
.45 bullets hurt more than sticks and stones
[?] stuffed with a couple [?]
these n-gg-s hoes
n-gg- like me come from a different mode
never told a soul, i keep that sh-t g, i’m sticking to the code
you don’t know that feeling when you sliding on that road
with ten birds stuffed inside the pannels of the doors
if you was in my situation dog, you’d probably fold
looking like you made it, serving dope and everybody know
f-ck getting even, we tryna up the score
we gon’ slide all weekend, [?]
chopper big as gary coleman with a different stroke
he was [?], turned deacon when we released them poles
n-gg-s speaking on my name like i ain’t been doing my thing since like ’99
owned about like 99 [?]
one call, my n-gg-s riding
if i spot an opp, i can guarantee you n-gg-s dying
tony starks with the iron
and you can ask them n-gg-s
glock clips long as antennas, who want static with us?
send some shots into your frame, i hope you get the picture
if you not part of this gang then you the opposition

[verse 2]
i heard you n-gg-s h-t that bell at reception
word around town is that your boy is telling
[?] gon’ poke him up once he get the message
we don’t harbor no snitches and b-tches in my section
molly got me lockjaw, i’m on the north tryna get this pot off
these n-gg-s acting hard but they’re cotton soft
am i worried? not at all
if he pose a threat, [?] knock him off
[?] b-tch top him off
my momma said i won’t be satisfied until i got a lot of time
screaming f-ck the other side
never could we coincide, ever since my n-gg- died
we been piling homicides
we been leaving mommas crying
caught ’em, hit ’em with the five
i want all the smoke, i’m laughing at you cause you all jokes
i had your b-tch down on all fours
you act but we all know
i’m up at [?] peeling off [?]
bank account look like a barcode, n-gg-
on gang

- joey fatts lyrics

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