| You should have been nicer when you were blazin’up the track
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| No well wishers, it’s just bitches talkin’trash
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| 'Cause the aftermath is saying that rap is whack
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| (MC Chris is dead!)
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| On arrival, watch his rivals revel the jealous
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| Relish the moment their opponent went to bevel
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| Six feet under, what a bummer, it’s no wonder the waste
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| Could have been a contender, now maggots march in his face
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| MC’s often in his coffin, lyin’down, lost in thought
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| Groupies gather at the grave and done throw posies on the pot
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| Haters hate off in the distance, telescoping with binoc’s
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| Smoking basket after laughing, get their knickers in knots
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| They play, in the park, in the dark, where these park kids live
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| Raise it high in the sky and cry «This shit is for Chris»
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| Then the talent tailor, how he really was a pimp
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| Hands wanted to be on, just want to be on his dick
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| I’ll wait to the day’s end when the moon is high
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| And then I’ll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I’ll
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| Amass an army, yeah we’re hard as a whore
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| And then we’ll limp across the land until we stand at the shore
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| I’ll wait to day’s end when the moon is high
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| And then I’ll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I’ll
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| Amass an army, yeah we’re hard as a whore
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| And then we’ll limp across the land until we stand at the shore
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| MC Chris is dead and is dreadfully morbid
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| He forfeits, forever free for the poor kids
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| One stepped at the bottom with demonic endorphins
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| I was power rings restrained, no more Mighty Morphin'
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| We couldn’t close the lid, there’ll be no bids on his toys
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| No will for the rumor mill, no bills to enjoy
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| He kept every penny 'cept the two on his eyes
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| Now the diggers at Denny’s, gettin’cheese on his fries
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| As for the babies and their mamma’s, there’ll be drama for days
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| Looks like he got his likeness, now it’s time to get paid
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| So many starvin’Marvin Garden, claimin’MC C But he’s a seedless greed, makin’pace in the RV
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| It’s a croc in the pot, is fraught, of it be the mock death
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| He’s got the awesomest posthumous box set
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| They’re airbrushing MC, on plain white tee’s
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| Another life lost to violence, silence if you please
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| I’ll wait to the day’s end when the moon is high
|
| And then I’ll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I’ll
|
| Amass an army, yeah we’re hard as a whore
|
| And then we’ll limp across the land until we stand at the shore
|
| I’ll wait to day’s end when the moon is high
|
| And then I’ll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I’ll
|
| Amass an army, yeah we’re hard as a whore
|
| And then we’ll limp across the land until we stand at the shore
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| My name is MC Chris and yo I can’t get laid
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| Now they lay me to rest, how am I gonna get paid?
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| These quarters are cramped and I’m crazy claustrophobic
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| Consider it, note it, I feel belittled and bloated
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| I better bust out in a hurry, 'cause I ain’t hating the road then
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| I can barely bust a move because my body is broken
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| But I’m covered in collections, though you can’t take it with you
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| Someone pass me a tissue while they gnash on my tissue
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| Somebody prayed to Vishnu any deity will do I claw at my satin ceiling, I’ve got nothing to lose
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| And through the dirt and the thick mud, I’ll tunnel like dig dug
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| Or the underminer, my desire is the big buck
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| Can I convey the basement without wasting my words
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| Fossilization’s what I’m facin’unless defacement occurs
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| So I rise to the occasion, there’s no waitin’for worms
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| And please no zombie player haters
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| Man, what have we learned?
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| I’ll wait to the day’s end when the moon is high
|
| And then I’ll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I’ll
|
| Amass an army, yeah we’re hard as a whore
|
| And then we’ll limp across the land until we stand at the shore
|
| I’ll wait to day’s end when the moon is high
|
| And then I’ll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I’ll
|
| Amass an army, yeah we’re hard as a whore
|
| And then we’ll limp across the land until we stand at the shore |