Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Chuckie, artist - Geto Boys. Album song We Can't Be Stopped, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 07.02.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rap-A-Lot
Song language: English
Chuckie |
| I told you size wasn’t shit, that’s why I murdered your nieces |
| Wasn’t my fault they found they head cut in 88 pieces |
| Don’t let 'em run, hurry up and catch 'em |
| You grab an arm, I grab an arm let’s pull 'till we stretch 'em |
| Play pussy, get fucked means you’re better off dead |
| I wanna see food so I fished in a child’s head |
| Motherfuckers beware cause I’m sick |
| Dead heads and frog legs, mmm… cake mix! |
| Friday the 13th the night of the living dead |
| Vampire arms walkin' 'round givin niggas head |
| If you didn’t die, I would say you got lucky |
| All bodies found dead, fuck it, blame it on Chuckie |
| But this is child’s play… motherfucka!!! |
| Aw, fuck, Chuck’s on a killin' spree |
| Gimme some barb and I’ll start by killin me |
| When I murder, I tried to slack off |
| Now 100 missiles blew a little girl’s back off |
| My name is Chuckie, some say I’m insane |
| You give me some gin, and I might eat a dog’s brain |
| Give me a motherfuckin 15-pack |
| And I’ll be damned if I don’t bring 15 dead niggas back |
| A murder contest, you know I’ll win it |
| Cause in every mailbox, there be a head with a knife in it |
| I’m gettin' hungry, I need to be fed |
| I feel like eatin' a bag of barbequed broke legs |
| Bustin' necks with a motherf*ckin' brick! |
| Half my body is Chuckie, the other half is Bushwick |
| A short nigga always pumpin' some lead |
| Haven’t figured out a way to get my fist out your forehead |
| What up? |
| Get up, sit up, you get lit up |
| A knife in his neck made a polar bear spit up |
| A 9, a Uzi is my only utensil |
| Inside his chest they found 10,000 pencils |
| You have the nerve to go against Chuck? |
| With fifty guns aimed at you, how the fuck you gonna duck, yo? |
| When I’m mad, I’m ready to slay |
| The graveyards are packed but it ain’t nothin' but child’s play |
| You’d better murder me, put me to rest |
| Cause if you don’t I’ll come out shootin' with my head in a bird’s chest |
| Pissed off, the way I’m always soundin' |
| Killed a punk in '82, and they just now found 'im |
| Some say I’m crazy, some say I’m on crack |
| Before I die cut off my leg and let me die in Iraq |
| A born loser, some say I’m mindless |
| If I get pissed off, you leave naked and spineless |
| Worse than Charles Manson, never havin' a equal |
| Went sleepwalking last night and killed 300 people |
| When I woke up they had me chained to the floor |
| When they told me what I did I killed 300 more, yo |
| You wanna rumble? |
| Then go get your war hat |
| I went to jail for assault with a carjack |
| I might be small but my nuts are big |
| The worst that you could do is let me keep your fuckin' kids |
| Cause I’m a teach 'em how to act |
| And if they ain’t actin' right, they dyin' tonight |
| So, uh, ain’t no use in you tryin' to spot 'em |
| I send you a motherfuckin' note that says «Chuckie's got em!» |