Lyrics Schmack! - Chords

Schmack!

I jump the beat, work it like a pogo stick
Oh no, it’s Chords with a thorn in his side
«Crash your cipher» turn it into «the lord of the flies»
On tour 'til I die, I swear man Chords wouldn’t lie
'Til the states stop celebratin' the 4th of July
'Til the fat man eats the last order of fries
And the big fish stop swimming in corporate lies
«Stick to the plan» hand over a list of demands
Give me 12 beats, a studio and 600 grams
«Man» and you’ll be there to see the shit hit the fan
Spliff in his hand popped up like the mystery man
«Damn» I jump up swing the toolie
«Nunchucks» straight out of a ninja movie
«Fucked up» didn’t really mean to injure groupies
«Tough luck» I was aiming for Marimba Roney
What’s on the menu doc, who’s next to get scarred?
I wild out like hard rocks with electric guitars
Fill the page up with decadent bar
Make rappers head for the stalls, checkin' their drawls
And it’s quite amazing how I run through quick
Like 1,2 #### you’re in a kung fu grip
M.O.N.S.
drops the body rock
And if he’s fuckin with the beat, shit is probably hot
If you fuck around with me you should probably stop
«You know my steez» I break up ciphers with karate chops, man
So you better avoid the issue
I run through notepads like it was a toilet tissue
«Deploy the missiles» show 'em I mean business
Let my tongue start rollin' like Gene Simmons
Fuck that, I throw a knuckle sandwich at 'em
And call the paramedics while I puff the magic dragon
You can catch me in the back with a sticky
In a cloud of smoke man, I leave the smackin' to Miki
«That's how it goes» still roll through in a Yugo
Both you and your crew know who’s numero uno
Who else, none other, C to the H O
So reach for the payroll and leave me the pesos
It’s all a part of a master plan
You get a publisher, hit him for a cash advance
Then get kitted out like Dapper Dan
And blow it all in one week down in Amsterdam
There’s only two rules: shit, you’re rich 'til you’re broke
And anything that can be saved in the mix is a joke
I spit to provoke, leave competition stiff as the pope
Arrogance, ill flow, got a little of both
I just mix 'em up with molten lava
Ghost I’m gone I leave you with an open palm