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quelle chris - shotgun lyrics

[intro]
– and when you tell the cops, remember the turtle’s parked
– smash and his crooked turtles left the bank with their bags of ill-gotten of money, and made their way to a supermarket…
– ahi-ya!
– the crooked ninja turtle gang then broke open a safe in a jewelry store…
– ahi-ya!
– suzy q, who the real turtles had just rescued last week, couldn’t believe what she was seeing!
– you know, i thought they were such nice boys

[verse 1: quelle chris]
yeah, cold steak for smell, colgate for stale
smooth oil of olay, [?], this is the culture, [?]
soon as you married into it, rock of gibralter
so stock up your armor
talks of retiring make you alter
how could you quit it when you been exalted
egos enormous
beagles not needed to sniff out the culprits
they see the paw prints
lookin’ like the presence of sasquatches
scooby doo n-ggas, expose monsters
hit the book to cross reference the prophets
chillin’ like can’t n0body see ’em
tinted windows, bizarre indos like some museum
license to be ill, you wish you could be ’em
my new m.o. is findin’ new ammo to shoot at the pre-amps
stupid, ridiculous, your flash-photography can’t see [?]
immortal, stunt raps
evel knievel grunt raps [?]
feet grind at your hero
raisin’ full deniro
how you gon’ be in the game when you’re zero and zero?
zero

[interlude 1]
…meanwhile in central park, two hoodlums are looking for their next victim

[verse 2: danny brown]
hip-hop fusebox
high like your pop socks
your boy ’bout to bubble, like cola and pop rocks
cop offs in hotels, i wait in my pop’s shop
i sort of [?] my nuts, just like a pop chat
used to rock the locks in a box that i tape [?]
avoid the cops, with them rocks all in my tube-socks
now, i play the booth, stand in front of the pop-stars
block the studio, and break it down like the chop-shop
block hot like az, no a/c
crazy, know you think this beard all gravy
poppin’ these pills like the old slim shady
’cause everyday skies gray like they held rain
play me, your -ss’ll fall, walk like mcgrady
call a hoe a b-tch and still treat her like a lady
navy blue bim, shermans tight on purpose
a lot of n-ggas hate it but, n-gga it ain’t worth it

[interlude 2]
…meanwhile, two thugs holding clubs are threatening the check-out lady:
– okay, lady, put all your money in the bag
– eh, would that be paper or plastic?

[verse 3: roc marciano]
multi-million dollar dreams and schemes
i’m still just a n-gga from the p’s with cheese
please, you drive cheap v’s[?], your grime a complete [?] (uhh)
oz’s, when they bleed to defeat freaks
sh-t, you know cloth that i’m cut from
’cause that sh-t is plus, son, like one of puff’s rugs (wooh!)
got enough plugs, when bloods show up with the gloves
beat you with clubs, like crockett and tubbs (yup!)
pops loves, suits in the [?], hot f-dg-
hoes hoppin’ in hot tubs with thugs (what?)
doin’ the dance, blue shoes and pants, blue gl-sses
two grandstands, food on the gr-ss (uhh)
the traffic had that afghan packed in the caravan
hooked up the plan, i’m just a travelin’ man (d-mn!)
make the bonus, [?] you own us
slugs fly past n-ggas’ face and shoulders
racin’ in the lotus, i’m rollin’ just erasin’ the moment
but i was just discussing the cake the n-ggas owed us (uh!)
uh, word

[outro]
– meanwhile, in central park…
– this sure is a slow day. we ain’t mugged anybody for a whole half-hour
– relax, pal. some poor sucker is bound to show up soon
– hahahaha
– see. what did i tell ya?
the ill-fated muggers walked over to a sudden arrival
– hiya, pal
– ah, where am i?
– i got a better question. like, how much money ya got in that stupid costume of yours?
– of course, i’m in the big apple

- quelle chris lyrics

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