Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Chi Skit / Adrenaline / Phone Skit, artist - Cam'Ron. Date of issue: 06.12.2004
Song language: English
Chi Skit / Adrenaline / Phone Skit |
| Part 2, What happens, when you combine the darkness, with the light? |
| Yeah, I am more than compelled and honored to expel |
| This hell that’s inside of my shell for fuckas who want it Violence, yeah that bullshit right up my alley, chasing you right up the alley |
| With a gun fixin’to kill you cuz I feel you was the one fuckin’with my family |
| I roll wit a gang of go-getters, and them ghouls and them gorillas |
| Who be quick to put the glock or the gauge to the gut of one of your niggas and |
| pull it The trigga aimed, deliver you niggas these rigorous bullets |
| It’s so rivid and to see you livin’in vengance and see the trouble you’re put in Fuckin’wit niggas you shouldn’t, these menaces and villians and hoodliums |
| That’ll give you the business and in an instant be dimishin’whoopin' |
| Cuz it ain’t no type of jokin’or jivin’comin’off of this |
| You done sommersaulted and dived in a coffin of shit |
| So if you ever get the notion to just motion forward and get on some ho shit |
| You niggas remember that I got that potion |
| To bore your brain in a bag and give you a new perspective on who the realest |
| y’all |
| You just can’t kill one you stupid bitch, you got to kill us all |
| What can I say to make you see how the fuck I feel, to make me wanna run up in ya home |
| Shoot you in the dome, if you bustin’my body up wit the chrome, I stilla be in the zone like |
| Capone |
| Better leave me alone, cuz I represent the city known for killin’motherfuckas |
| Makin’plenty money and layin’mack down |
| Cam buckin’Twista spittin’gritty competition what a pity |
| You ain’t fuckin’wit it then put ya stash down |
| Come at the family you touched uh, I’ll shoot up ya V-12 even if you wit ya female uh You was talkin’shit nigga wassup, fuckin’up ya Sprewell’s and ya new interior |
| detail |
| And a nigga standin’too tall to fall, comin’so I hope y’all can crawl |
| Bloody up the vest all the wall, sacrifice my body screamin’Kamakaze, |
| I can take all of y’all |
| Y’all niggas play around, guns I wave around |
| Nigga better stay down, lay down, weigh pounds |
| Put 'em on the Greyhound, ride it up to K-Town |
| The boy get nasty, Tolor force me, blast me Sawed-off and I’m happy, or where the crack be Put it right all for Polaski |
| Cross street, don’t need to be said |
| Code red already got beef with the feds |
| Put three in ya head, from the street full of lead |
| Fuck knee-deep you’ll be six feet when ya dead |
| Street sweeper when I creep creep, nigga fled |
| When ya sleep sleep, nigga dead |
| Why you on the back block, fightin’in the crack spot |
| Jackpot, ask not ?? |
| (It's your adrenaline rushhhhh) |
| Like when the motherfucka have to go and pick up the pump |
| To make his opposition chest kick up and jump |
| When you lit up the gun, to make ya body get up and uhh |
| (It's your adrenaline rushhhhh) |
| Like when the motherfucka have to go and pick up the pump |
| To make the trigga pick up and dump |
| So turn the bass kick up the bump, and let the rhythm hit off the trunk |
| Ya bitch is a ho, she chill at the Rucker, you really a sucka |
| Big Will tryin’to grill her and cuff her |
| And Killa done fucked her, in love wit the chick, the slut was a fish |
| Threw her bait, reeled her in and gutted the bitch |
| And now she, up in Pokip’s dick, huggin’the strip slick |
| 5th tucked in her hip, she will mug you for kicks |
| And word to, motha I’m rich, hit ya motha with bricks |
| Cocoa why don’t ya build buildings with concussion the bitch |
| Come and feel wit the balla who’s the nicest and causin’the crisis |
| Got the ammo and agility that says rewind means growin’before |
| And this livin’and pause and this likeness |
| I can spit it for some who for nigga represent the call of the righteous |
| Or gang bang to the rhythm when I spit it |
| I’ma kill 'em wit the technical precision that’ll be fuckin’up all the devices |
| Get sick wit it like I’m lit off the wet, if it’s beef, get the shit off ya chest |
| Don’t take off ya vest, all my niggas make you jump off the set |
| And always get the prints of the tech, straight off the deck |
| Mobbin’up and makin’niggas duck, knowin’I’ll still open up the trunk |
| Guns nigga we get 'em and bust, murderin’the enemy is the ultimate adrenaline |
| rush |