When you dreaming, please don't let it be a nightmare..
Whoever told you, that life's fair..
I'm right there..
[Hook x4]
Whoever told you, that life's fair
When you dreaming, please don't let it be a nightmare
When you wake up screaming, I'm right there
To lighten the mood, I'm like the sun with a bright glare
[Chris Ward]
I'm just sitting in my bedroom, all alone
Thinking of life, how most of it all is wrong
I'm more than grateful, that I can stand tall and strong
For that matter, I don't care what you call this song
Cause this one, coming straight from the heart
The same story I've been trying to tell y'all, straight from the start
Life is a crazy thang
Remember Hardest Pit track 13, shady game
All my peers is still down, my mothers tears is still crying
The FEDs in the hood, and they still spying
Trying they damnedest, to catch a nigga
First chance you give em, they gon try and get you nigga
God knows, that they sent just to get you nigga
Just to capture you, in the rapture nigga
You see the fame and the fortune, ain't all what it seems
It's like living a dream, inside of a dream
[Hook x2]
[Chris Ward]
Take a good glimpse, at all the shit you facing
It's options, instead it's sticky situations
But no, there's no trials without tribulations
And, no hustle without determination
And no racism, without discrimination
Cause believe it or not, it still exists within this nation
A lot of times, I feel impatient
Cause there's no small sign, or indication
Of how long, are we all gon be here
Cause if you pass them bars, you feel the streets gon be here
It's one life one chance, one heaven up above
One man one night, one dance
And this one goes out, to my folks on lock
Going through hell, in cell blocks
When you get out, hold your head and try to maintain
Cause I promise you, ain't nothing changed uh
[Hook x4]
[talking]
Know I'm saying, it's real
Whoever told you life's fair, just think about it
This what I get in my dreams sometimes
When I wake up screaming, if that happens
Well, you already know yes
Whoever told you that life's fair, nightmare
Uh, uh, yeah-yeah, C. Weezy nigga..
[Chris Ward]
Things just ain't the same, for mobsters
That's why it's so hard, for real niggaz to prosper
Everybody acting like, they want Oscars
Claiming they real with you, when they not your partnas
There's way more fakers out here, than you thought cuz
They can't help themselves, from being those lost duds
I'm high, buzzing off blueberry frost buds
Cause that's the way I collect, and gather my thoughts up
And I know, you all think I signed with the Boss but
I collabed with him again, just to get me some boss bucks
If you don't like me, you don't got to
Cause you're not me, and I am not you
Half the shit you industry, I promise you this
It's not you expect for you stop it, in a drop that's blue
Now what you got to do, it's better than that
The way they bragging, I thought you was better than that
Keep bumping, I'ma put that lead in the gat
Cock it back and watch the buck shots, spread in your hat
Then your bitch ass, be dead as a mat
Laying there staying, ain't nothing deader than that
Some slicker than wet ice, admit it I'm that nice
You did down to get, one verse is that price
Come on down, double or nothing that bet's twice
My number one fan's wifey, I'm that sheisty
I'm the pimp you the punk, I'm the champ you the chump
I'm the skunk you the punk, I'm the funk in the trunk
I'm the shit that stunk, plus that nigga
That'll run up in the club, and get that hoe crunk, watch me
[Hook]
I know, you got your eyes on me
I feel you watching me, but it ain't hard to see
That you can't see me
You try, but what you think you saw
Ain't what you thought you saw
You're better off, not looking at all
[Dr. Dre]
Everywhere that I go
Ain't the same as befo'
People I used to know
Just don't know me no mo'
But everywhere that I go
I got people I know (the watcher)
Who got people they know
[50 Cent]
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't selling my soul, for this rap game
And I ain't digging no hole, for this rap game
Man I'm telling you, no it ain't happen-ayn
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't selling my soul, for this rap game
And I ain't digging no hole, for this rap game
This rap game, this rap game
[Poppy]
Man it's hilarious, to see some of the scariest
Niggaz alive, rapping neck like they running they areas
They out of character, now as a chemist recital
A fairy tale rap, from cast as American Idol
Wanna-be's, it ain't a gangsta bone in em
The type that twitch, when you take a gangsta tone with em
Stunting like everything, in the chamber won't hit em
Fronting like Pharell, these niggaz fraud as hell
It ain't hard to tell, you niggaz is squares
The only gel they know, is the kind they put in they hair
They ain't from your hood, but that's the one they put in the air
When the beef come, displaying them looks of despair
Yeah y'all niggaz powderpuff, tough cause you powered up
But niggaz'll shower you, every hour on the hour punk
With hollow tip slugs, follow my tip
'For them hollow tips, follow your lips get a grip
[Scooby]
Believe it or not, I still be bleeding them blocks
Drop them undergrounds, cause 'Scoob be needing them knots
We need 'em copped, soon as they turn the lights on
I live the street life, with or without the mics on
I'm nice home's, I ain't gotta explain myself
Dad didn't do shit, nigga I trained myself
It was harder without a father, I blame myself
Didn't talk to him much, I just came and left
Yeah, I had my mind on some better shit
Get some cheddar quick, and I ain't singing or selling my soul to get a hit
You hear me bitch, I ain't never been fly on no material shit
Ain't never been fly, I'm a General bitch
I'm a gangsta, put the 4-5 to you thinker and bang you
I don't know y'all niggaz, y'all is strangers
And fucking with them boys, that's dangerous
[Dre Day]
Who gives a fuck about pop culture, I'm from the hood
Where they bleed blocks duck cops, fuck bops and pop toasters
Kids grow to gangstas, not bankers and stock brokers
Glock chokers, you could lose your mind if you not focused
By the nine, M-O-B the shit it's the bottom line
Me and Dre Day gotta shine, niggaz looking like they bit a lime
I'm on my grind, so it's no time to sit around
Gotta get my cash, stack some cash that's the rap game
Blades cause my 16's, slash cats
I'm who they can't fade, so stop trying to gas cats
Cause I run through em, like I'm a hat back
Dre got the H locked they jealous, so I got the HK cocked
When you rap, it ain't shit to clown and these broads
Especially when there's yellow diamonds, in your Lord
And you're dope and you flow sick, they quick to show you how deep they go
We going through a lot, so I keep weed to smoke
Like a torch how I roach shit, got 'em hollin' Dre the best
From coast to coast, competition looking so sick
I got my fame, off respect of code
But I been hot bitch, listen to my old school flows
I fuck dime pieces, y'all can have these descent hoes
See I'm a rebel slash pimp, Dre Day leasing hoes
All tights black whites, Puerto Rican hoes
I'm getting this money day and night, till I decompose
Bitch, my name hot I'm getting three for shows
Bitch your name not, go delete your flows
[talking]
Yeah nigga, Grit Boys what's up
My nigga Dre Day, one of my young niggaz
Out the motherfucking camp uh, (it's C. Weezy)
We shit on niggaz mayn, cause Grit Boys they shit on niggaz
They don't give a fuck, this rap game (you gon quit riding my dick)
Niggaz be chunking they self selling they soul
Jumping from dick to dick, click switching trying to get in where they fit in
You know, trying to get a break or something I feel you
But we don't sell our soul nigga (and ah this year baby I'm the boss-boss)
(So please get off my dick, and keep my name out your mouth)
You can do what you wanna do nigga
But you gotta do a whole lot, when you fuck with the Mob nigga
It's a hard job, trying to work with us
It's more than just rapping over here homie, it's some real shit going on
Ask my nigga Den, ask my nigga Pokey, ask D-1 motherfucker
Ask my niggaz, any one of my niggaz they'll tell you, peace motherfuckers
(and ah this year baby I'm the boss-boss
So please get off my dick, and keep my name out your mouth)
And keep my name out your mouth nigga, M-O-B style fo' life
Boyz N Blue coming, be on the look out
[50 Cent]
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't selling my soul, for this rap game
And I ain't digging no hole, for this rap game
Man I'm telling you, no it ain't happen-ayn
This rap game, this rap game
I ain't selling my soul, for this rap game
And I ain't digging no hole, for this rap game
From C. Ward to you nigga, uh..
[Chris Ward]
It's not real to be hard, in fact it's hard to be real
And you gotta been through it, to know how I feel
I stood still plenty of times, my back against the wall
Crying for help, but nobody answered my call
And all I can do is reminisce, when I was a kid
Growing up, there's a lot I could of changed that I did
And now, I intend to adjust myself
Though I'm grown I still hear voices whispering, (can I trust myself)
I use to wanna grab for a gun, and bust myself
But that ain't right, and Lord knows I would of disgust myself
I had to move alone, and prove 'em wrong
They John Q's boy, showed that I'm too strong
I'm from the small section, we call the Y-Stone
Where our world and lifestyle, spins fast as a cyclone
And it seems, everytime one of my dogs get home
It's like five-six-seven or eight, others get gone
And I know that it's hard, out here
I hate to complain, but Lord I swear
I'm just trying to hold on, better yet I'm trying to keep it together
I got the puzzle, but I can't seem to put these pieces together
I'm on that other shit, that born and raised in the gutter shit
Where most of these niggaz come up, trying to slang that butter shit
There's no longer a war on Iraq, there's a war on the black
Right now in every ghetto, there's a war on crack
See, the moral of my story is
There's nothing out here, that can make you notorious
Cause money don't make the man, just make what he got
But materialistically, that's what most folk think it's about and that's fucked up
[talking]
Uh, I wanna send some shout out's right quick, yeah
Holla at my little sisters and, J-Weezy, what's up Jenny
Saqoia got ya, this one right here for y'all, Kiesh'
[talking:]
Uh uh, yeah-yeah uh yeah-yeah
Uh yeah-yeah, yeah yeah
[Chris Ward:]
Ten bricks nigga, in a Benz six nigga
It's your motherfucking nigga, C. Ward
Five years later, and I'm five times greater
It's your motherfucking nigga, C. Ward
What's my motherfucking name, put a bullet in your head
Leave your shirt red, cause pussies get bled
It's the spokesman, from Y.S.P.
I can't lie until I die, it's S.U.C.
I conversate for a thee, do a verse for three
Whenever you fuck with me, it's gon cost you a fee
I rip shows, get rid of those girls you be liking and loving
Cause to me, they just bullshit hoes
Live and direct, from the 7-1-Tre
Where niggaz be holding you down, like everyday
It's the flyest, nigga talking
Someone give me the space, cause I'm the flyest nigga walking
I'm way out, this atmosphere
What is it 0-3 shit, I'll be back next year
With some new sensations, game to give y'all
M.O.B. Style, this is how we live y'all
See it's the, hoe slapper
Pimp, slash flow rapper
Rap rhymes rap flows, rap bricks rap hoes
Pay the price for anyone of the four, and I'll wrap those
Bad hoes I fuck em, after that I duck em
Cigarellos I stuff em, with endo and puff em
Bitches on dick, wanting some'ing for nothing
That might surprise you, but to me it's nothing
I'm irresisitable, attitude is despicable
I pop out on your kids, like peek-a-boo
Huh, it's ghetto pimping on a track
Shit I'm like a gat, some every nigga need in his Lac
Chris Wizzard, watch how you pronounce the shit
G's up hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this uh
G's up hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this
[Hook:]
Before you dog you dying, and busting your eye in
Take the stand you lying, it's ok
If you cook it cut it, watch fuck it all your niggaz in public
Them bitches love it, it's ok
If you hard right now, it's the greatest on the buck
Looking for some'ing to fuck, it's ok
If you slide in with her, it's ok
If you slide in with him, it's ok
[Big Pokey:]
I'm the nigga, that you 'spose to know
Same nigga that's suppose to touch the rock, when it's fourth and fo'
I'm hot, but my freestyle fo' below
Step on feet, sorry if I broke your toe
My hoes, call me Mr. finesse
I'm a throwback nigga, old school just like Mitchell & Ness
And them scared niggaz, check they chins
Fake left hand shakes, I see through you like a contact lens
Now honor, my words
M.O.B., money over bullshit right now I got a gun and a bird
Mob niggaz, move in herds
You need to stop, I cock a five pound glock that can move your curb
Ain't no nigga, like a Mob Style nigga
Cause a Mob Style nigga, don't quit
Ain't no bitch, like a Mob Style bitch
Cause a Mob Style bitch, rock pits
Does it a day, new Chanelle negaleshe
Buying for real, bout they bread and don't play
I'm a bull like I'm born in May, I rush niggaz
Stay in your place, you bump too much hush nigga
In a trap, open your eyes and see your face
I'm here to stay like a test in your skin, you missed a space
These hoes wanna give me they ass, give me your face
Cannon on my waist, cause these niggaz is hoes
And you move, I walk in I'm taking the show
Whip niggaz with this pen, like I'm taking the sco'
First, I'ma hit em with this
Lean back go and hit em with Chris, it's like I'm losing my fits
M.O.B. you know that we thoed
We bout to reload, unlock and explode
Y.S.P. you know it don't stop
This here for Lil' Pop, we stay on the block nigga
I got that gangsta shit, cause I'm a gangsta biiiitch
I got that playa shit, cause I'm a playa biiiitch...
[Chris Ward]
I don't rehearse a lot, and I don't curse a lot
Whenever I lay some'ing down, my verse is hot
It's like when I'm under pressure, the worst come out
Yeah just like that, the worst come out
I grind everynight, whether it's the first or not
Knock boys out like a 4-4, bursting shots
Well go 'head, call the surgeons and the nurses out
Oops my bad, the paw bearers and hearses out
[Hook x2]
I got that gangsta shit, cause I'm a gangsta biiiitch
I got that thuggish flow, cause I'm thuggish hoe
I got that playa shit, cause I'm a playa biiiitch
I got that hustler flow, cause I'm a hustler ya know
[Chris Ward]
You see I rap, like it's Christmas time
Shine harder than your neighborhood nigga, during Christmas time
You hear a flow, that's a Chris design
I got 'em rushing to the sto', like J's half off at Finish Line
The rhyme rhythm is ratical, I make a mack fanatical
Me and my mathematicals, are so damn compatible
Everything that comes to my hands, got a price on it
Whether it's a 4 or a zone, with a touch of spice on it
The Coupe look nice don't it, when I'm hogging the lane
Like a tour bus, trying to flood the city with pure dust
Balling symptom so sick, they can't possibly cure us
Next year it's M-S fashion, Belour crush
So shhhhhh, keep that on the hush
Cause I think I just told y'all, a little too much
My lyrical lectures, are so infectious
Blend in like mega-plectures, with all the extras
My jewelry light up the night, like bicycle reflectors
That's why hoes call and harass me, like bill collectors
So please believe, believe me please
I be on the block from dust to dawn, like I got all-nighters disease
[Hook]
[Chris Ward]
See I'm a gangsta, full time playa
Big balling, all about my paper
See most girls that come to my shows, stand in line
Whether they love me, or they just some fan of mine
They all be like, Whodie how can we be down
I be like, you already are cause damn you so fine
Most hoes that say they know me, really get to know me
Once they know that I'm gone, get it nigga they know me
[talking]
You don't get it do you, ya heard me nigga they know
[talking]
Yellowstone in the house, Dead End in the house uh
Mobstyle, know the radio ain't gon like this one here
[Hook x2]
Heeey (heeey), (move to the flo')
If you ain't getting gangsta with it, (move to the do')
Hooo (hooo), you moving it slow
(work with it lil' mama, and move it some mo')
[Chris Ward]
I said heeey, when we came into play
Gone, so why you turn midnight to mid-day
By the way, you know we got them new J's on
Body rocking, like we just heard my 2-way song
Been getting twisted and glisted, for two days long
Can't see shit, but I can hear 'em saying (ooh they gone)
Ooh they wrong, for coming up in here like that
Hold up stop rewind, bring that shit back
You act like, you ain't buzzing a little
What you got in your cup, ain't buzzing a little
They way we pulled up in candy cars, it looked like a dozen of Skittles
And lil' mama you should be focused, on how I'ma cut up your middle
And I know, the chain is too chromey and too crushy
As if I slam dunked it, in a frozen blue slushy
That's when she said, (you must be that C. Ward kid)
Known for spitting flows, and acting retarded I said
[Hook x2]
[Kyleon]
I get gangsta with it, peep a G I be
Pulling every dime I see, in V.I.P
Attitude Leila Ali, with a J-Lo face
Chest size and thighs, with a J-Lo waist
Tempo at a slow pace, I need it fast
Hand attacks the ass, the other attacks the glass
For the Belvedere, Cristal and Cuervo shots
Max's, Simple Visi I play those lots
Ice connected to my body, like Lego blocks
All shapes colors and sizes, like Lego blocks
They so hot who is that, Kyleon and his crew
With Whodi, hollin' at lil' mama on the phone in the blue
Go to the bar purchase the Yak, and stomp to the back
It's crunk in the back, there's hoes bout a bunch in the back
Club full of thugs and them gangstas, from the front to the back
Hey lil' mama, let me see ya make it jump from the back and say
[Hook x2]
[Chris Ward]
I hopped out, the red six
Fa sho you could tell the way I prevail, I'm bout my bread sticks
Females y'all call chickenheads, we call head-chicks
And they only boppers, cause they heard we bled bricks
Splitting up O's, hitting them licks
Serving the do's, trying to get them a fix
But other than that, I'm really just a lovable cat
Cause your main bitch love it, when I'm up in her cat
Because of the fact, I got mo' game than Coach K
And could clear the spot out, like a can of roach spray
With the force of a, Yellowstone lyrical sorcerer
I spit the kind of flames, that'll torture ya now say
[talking:]
Haters, you got five seconds to stop what you doing
And shake the room niggaz, with an additional three seconds
To get in whatever you pushing, and shake the lot
Ladies, that gives you about eight seconds
To grab your purses tight, and come on up to the front
Where the playas, thugs and the gangstas at come on
Uh huh uh huh, yeah uh uh
[Chris Ward:]
They call me C-H-R-I, to the S
I'm a gang and a rap star, I'm the best
I'm the young dude, that they label fresher than fresh
Gutter smooth suave, and finesse
Style is endless, I blow shots through your thin vest
Leave you and your men stressed, like you just took ten tests
Four fo' pounders, is what I bench press
And in the end, will I win yes
I flow as if I know, that I've been blessed
Though I'm a king, cause in the ring a four princess
All this hate going around, is senseless
They dickriders, see how much they keep me in mess
I suggest, y'all quit acting like you know me
Hollin' what's up Lil' Chris, what's happening whoadie
Spectators, just hand me my trophy
I'm the franchise like Steve, plus I ball like Kobe
Don't talk to me, bout MC's got skills
He's alright, but he's not real
C-Weez bout scrill, blowing trees out the Deville
Running through boys hoes, like a two minute drill
I'm like Hump, from Sucka Free for real
Cause none of you chumps, can sucker me with a deal
You can't, fuck with me for a mill
Even if you come with two, you can't fuck with me still
So you got a flow, that's iight with me
You got a lil' do', that's iight with me
You got a lil' glow, that's a sight to see
But none of y'all motherfuckers, is tight as me
You know, C dot W-A-R to the D
Got mo' connects, than AT&T;
Just listen around, it sounds like they being me
Cause I spit sermons, like Anfernee from EPMD
I do gangsta raps, so they say I'm a G.M.C.
Got a chromed out Denali, a GMC
No hate, it's just love from the M.O.B.
To D.E.A. to B.B.S., to C.M.G.
Much respect, to the whole S.U.C.
And don't speak to me bitch, unless you S.U.C.
I stay boss hogging, like Slim Thee and E.S.G.
Got so much game, I oughtta build a PS3
Not just the rookie of the year, I'm the M.V.P.
So that's why, these red-shirters envy me
I'm bout to, blow this bitch like TNT
Getting dirty money, like Pimp C and B-U-N-B
I'm still uncut and lethal, like PCP
And keep it ghetto, from here to the Bronx to the CPT
Now go backwards, you know I got that N-U-G
And if I e-mail you shots, I'ma send you three nigga
Stay wilding, Mob-Style'ing
Be on the court with the Knicks, repping Houston like Allen
Now in this city, we are the dream team
Cause everybody dreams, to be on our dream team
The thing seems to be, I am a power house
We have nothing in common, you is a coward mouse
Uh oh, you've been discovered
Ain't no secret I done peeped it, you just blown your cover
See us niggaz, we never trip with no brizzoad
Can't trust em like niggaz, they all so frizzuad
I'm back, lik MJ
So from this day forth, y'all can all call me Chris Wizzard
Get it Chris Wizzard, I go hard in the paint
Po' up and lean, go hard off of paint
You can't and you ain't, gon stop me mayn
Been wrecking since 9-8, when I first got in the game
See I don't stop, and I won't stop
Ery'body asking Whoadie, when your album gon drop
And if it could sell in jail, I'll go three times plat
Naw I'm fucking wit ya, three times that
I know cats that buy my c.d.'s, and slam em to the side
But because of they girlfriends, they jam em in they ride
Least you could do, is jam em with pride
I'm your wifey's number one, damn this is live
Now you can love me or hate me, or just love to hate me
Whichever is quite whatever, love me or hate me
Just don't come around, talking bout you miss me though
Yeah right I believe ya, Ms. Cleo
This here, ain't no mystery bro
Peep game, I'm bout to make history hoe
See you know, just like they know
That we all know, that I got flow
So when you see me enter the do', Gucci from head to toe
Just remember, this is some'ing we all seen befo'
So whenever whenever was, we fall in your club
Don't hate participate, put your hands up
Put your hands up, niggaz
Bitches, busters, hustlers uh
With your mug on mean, cause you know we be thugging
Mob Style in the house, that's the way we be clubbing nigga
Uh uh yeah uh uh, put your hands up niggaz
Bitches busters, hustlers uh
With your mug on mean, cause you know we be thugging
H-Town in the house, that's the way we be clubbing nigga
[talking:]
Yeah hands up, hands up hands up
[talking]
Whoo, listen here mayn
This one here, is for the haters
Understand this here daddy
[Hook]
(Ain't no love), never have never will be
I'm still on the grind, still out for mine and I'm still me
(Ain't no love), that's just how it is
Sometimes you really gotta handle your bis
[Chris Ward]
With so much drama, in the YSP
It's kinda hard, being C. W-A-R-D
But I, somehow some way
Keep coming up with funky ass shit, like every single day
With more flows than the average, I'm on my toes
With mo' clothes and mo' hoes, and it shows I'm not your average
If I see it I just grab it, that's if I want it
Or I need it, or I just got that feel I gotta have it
Good pussy I'ma stab it, hop up on it
Hop up in it, hop all around it just like a rabbit
It's really a babbit, if you from H-Town
You cop it you drop it, you swing it and you slab it
Ooh-wee dag nabbit, I'm too fresh with my playerness
Some say I got, what the rest of these playas missed
That's why, I fuck the women that they wanna fuck
Or at least fuck the ones, that tell em they don't wanna fuck cause
[Hook]
(Ain't no love), never have never will be
I'm still on the grind, still out for mine and I'm still me
(Ain't no love), ain't no love at all
I'm just running with my niggaz, that love to ball
[talking]
I tell ya (ain't no love)
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh
Ain't no love, motherfucker listen nigga
(Ain't no love), never have never will be
I'm still on the grind, still out for mine and I'm still me
