| Indie 5, Collins
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| Javotti, our time, north time
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| Flatbush to Abbey Road, who got that soul?
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| We 100 on the road, 100 at home
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| Rose from the ruins like a Pac poem
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| We ain’t going back to the Brook without the chip
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| We ain’t going back without that chip
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| We ain’t coming back to the Brook without that chip
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| We ain’t coming back without that chip
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| You got next, we got forever, join the list
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| Fresh from the lab like I got the cure
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| Nothing but the pure for the world to hear
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| It’s like gravity cause it pulled us here
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| Red carpet, world premiere
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| Cinematic, they know the score
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| Instant classic, tour de force
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| I paid the price, I know the course
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| I shake the dice, I know the toss
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| It’s simple really but you know it’s deep
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| When the angel and the devil on the shoulder speak
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| Two voices, two choices
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| Prepare for war or go in peace
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| They don’t believe I’m touring overseas
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| «Nah, he don’t even rap about coca leaves»
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| Think globally, not locally
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| You ain’t woke as me, nigga go to sleep
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| Thank God I’m back, this ain’t hard in fact
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| This target practice, red beams
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| Standing up cause I’m man enough
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| And then turn her on like wet dreams
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| You can wet it up, you can step it up
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| You ain’t catching up with my jet stream
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| And I’m going too fast so I put ‘em up last
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| Why you showing yo ass? |
| This ain’t sex scenes
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| They ain’t built to last, they bust quicker
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| Fast talking like tongue twister
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| These young spitters can’t fuck with us
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| Pardon my French like I tongue kissed her
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| Back in the day they used to hunt niggas
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| And they hung niggas for being hung niggas
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| Now the guns are spittin' when the hunger hit us
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| These young niggas like come and get us
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| Flatbush to Abbey Road, who got that soul?
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| We 100 on the road, 100 at home
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| Rose from the ruins like a Pac poem
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| We ain’t going back to the Brook without the chip
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| Waka! |
| Waka! |
| Waka! |
| Flocka!
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| Flocka! |
| Flocka! |
| Flame! |
| Hah!
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| Fuck that shit, this is quality trap
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| Y’all really thought I could hardly rap
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| Better watch ya front, better guard ya back
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| Every muh’fuckin' bar is a heart attack
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| Better work out hard, watch your cardiac
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| Where my shawty at? |
| Where my 40 at?
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| My shit a event, you shit a show
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| Nigga I could still get a brick for the low
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| Nigga I could still put dick in ya hoe
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| And I’d rather die rich than live po', oh
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| Busta Bust better give me some mo'
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| We gon' hit a lick then divvy the dough
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| I’ma sell again one minute ago
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| I don’t give a fuck if you friendly or foe
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| I need the ring, gimme the ring
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| I don’t diss rappers, get in the ring
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| Sit in the clink before I ever sing
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| You see me winning, chips with my team (Brick Squad!)
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| Real shit you gotta deal with
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| Better check the torch, we still lit
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| «Flocka, who you wanna get a mil with?»
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| Niggas I ain’t used to have a meal with
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| I’m enlightened now, they frightened now
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| So excited, you like it then bite the style
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| They did it before, they’ll do it again
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| I’m a motion picture, let the movie begin
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| Scared to hit niggas, they’ll sue me again
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| Got platinum plaques, I’m a truly gem
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| I’m a rudeboy, roll the doobie again
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| Forward marching, we moving in
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| Flocka!
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| Flatbush to Abbey Road, who got that soul?
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| We 100 on the road, 100 at home
|
| Rose from the ruins like a Pac poem
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| We ain’t going back to the Brook without the chip
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| We ain’t going back without that chip
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| We ain’t coming back to the Brook without that chip
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| We ain’t coming back without that chip
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| You got next, we got forever, join the list |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Chips , by - Talib Kweli. Song from the album Radio Silence, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп