Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song What You Got , by - Chino XL. Release date: 31.12.2007
Song language: English
What You Got |
| Y’all coward niggaz make a nigga like me laugh, |
| what the fuck? |
| yea, yea. |
| chargin y’all niggaz |
| yea, yea. |
| behold the only thing greater than yourself |
| I’ll slash ya grill, don’t start me You’ll be the only entertainer with less groupies than Biz Markie |
| I’m never dull, Chino the pretty thug, style centerfold, |
| I’ll have every latin in the country aimin at ya skull |
| I’ll aim it at the Pope if he claimin he sellin the most dope |
| My Jersey blocks is locked tighter than prisoners hold soap |
| And listeners where we vote out ya CD and vinyl, the final result |
| Yell, fuck tricks and smoke, till our vocals combine with a Colt |
| They playin this in every club, whip, party and bar you in Give you more blood clots than two jamaicans arguin |
| Sweat till ya fake silver platinum chains is tarnishin |
| Women shakin they ovaries, look what we accomplishin, what. |
| We got better lyrics than you got What You Got? |
| We got better bitches than you got What You Got? |
| We run with more killas than you got What You Got? |
| We got better whips than you got What You Got? |
| We got better cribs than you got What You Got? |
| We got better bitches than you got What You Got? |
| We run with more killas than you got What You Got? |
| We got better lyrics than you got What You Got? |
| Coming to kill me, I cant hear that |
| Fear is a stimulus I haven’t been programmed to feel yet |
| Snatch you outta your Roots like I’m from Illadelph |
| What I do to push your hairline back, Rogaine wont help |
| My Quest for the Wealth, like Stone Cold Austin’s quest for the belt |
| I mention myself as a celestial cell, an extension of hell |
| At a lynching I smile, cut myself down, murder your guest list |
| My style never a drag like they do black men in Texas |
| Next rapper to mention this, I’ma show them the real threat |
| Cause I’ma ride till my daughters like Daddy are we there yet? |
| Ain’t no priest in the streets, only drugs before miracles |
| See more keys than a lot of Hammer’s repossessed vehicles |
| Told you I was coming, you ain’t believe I’m assumin |
| If we all super heroes, these bitch niggaz must be Wonder Women |
| Fist to fist, skin to skin, I make you fall flat |
| Brat little niggaz, the tat on my shoulder cover they whole back |
| Cant hold back, splatter they whole rap to match my ((?)) |
| Shittin on MC’s, wipin my ass on they notebooks |
| How the broke crooks in videos leave me stressed |
| I’ll turn on channel 2 if I wanna CBS, bitch |
| (Chorus w/ slight variation) |
| Least but not last, I’ll blast an informant |
| Until he has the cash to put end to his torment |
| Now shine up the brass for his coffin |
| I’m last of the rawest, my passion ain’t dormant |
| I’ve mastered the forces, I rap to the chorus, |
| My cast is enormous, I’m fast and I’m cautious |
| Twenty inch arms stronger than forklifts |
| Smoke hash in front of reporters till I choke and they nauseous |
| And smash through the glass of your Porsche’s |
| Show you how Newark is as hard as divorces |
| Lay you out dead in the grass on the forest |
| My craft is flawless, have ya flesh wrapped in a blackened sausage |
| Blood Splashed across it for rhymin like a fag in a cordless |
| Murder all witnesses, nosey, standing on porches, |
| Like torches, super human, Chino’s skin never scorches |
| Drape your family reunion in black funeral mourners |
| Have cats that sell ya drugs for you, avoid usual corners |
| I never lost this mad lust to be rap’s Colossus |
| Breakin companies, Jersey got women strapped inside they office |
| I got. |
| DJ Supporters and women makin sex offers |
| I got. |
| A crib like a fortress, tuition for all my daughters |
| I got. |
| Rhymes hot like sauna’s, and thousands from Time Warner |
| I got. |
| Killas on every corner, surrounded by jewish lawyers |
| What what what. |
| (Chorus w/ slight variation) |