Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Guilty Simpson
Guilty Simpson
Performer
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Performer
Kong The Artisan
Kong The Artisan
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
James Webb
James Webb
Songwriter
Byron Simpson
Byron Simpson
Songwriter
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Kong The Artisan
Kong The Artisan
Producer

Lyrics

Ch-check, ch-check-check, one, two, uh, uh
Check-check, uh (Uh), Guilty Simpson, uh
Peace to the homie Alchemist, you know?
Ayy
Me and my brother AL double down, run 'em down
Rabbit and the hunter style
Who got the gun, who got the funds to spend a couple thou'?
I put a rapper from the underground in a hover round
Forefathers, more choppers, warmongers
Violate and get your port shot up
On the highway, you'll get your boy shot up
I'm extra, haggelin' with Heckler's, your seconds up
Metal tuck, steppers so whoever steppin' up get stepped on
Checkin' the mic and the checks blown soon after
Room crashes while they focus on the new fashion and Philly's Q
My idea, shoppin' for gear is ghillie suits
Tryin' to see if what's in the safe is really loot
Peel your roof, somethin' like I really hoop
'Cause I'm gettin' bored, reboundin' when the trigger shoots
Pursuin' my ends, sicker than Montezuma's Revenge
Double back and I do it again
You need rooms to sit in, your truth is revenge
Tryin' to get back, people downplayin' your impact
Never was pursuin' the trend, livin' off the land
Chicken coop or the Benz
When I'm swoopin', get in, we ridin'
Yeah, we move in silence
The wave that they turn the tide with
Tyrants, fully understood the assignments
Impact shook your alignment
Look at the fine print, the writing's on the wall
Giants of the fall, heatin' up and cookin' the diamond
Mixin' shit in the beaker 'til it erupted
Spray my name on the wall of fame if I'm not inducted
Work jackets, hard hats, I do construction (Work)
You lay in the urinated bed with Teddy Ruxpin (Haha)
Tuggin' on the bed sheet like a girly man
I push everything off the table cloth, eat a bowl of goulash with dirty hands
Might sail up to the venue with a vikin' helmet
They on my head to shake 'em off, I got the light's repellent
I'm sprayin' like odor parfume (Uh)
Make it bubble when I had fire below the tar spoon
Tyre spinnin' after we finished the show, the car zoom (We out)
Dark room swimmin' with sharks, I'm throwin' harpoons (Uh)
You not a threat (Never), I'm a veteran not a pet
Slammin' down the gas paddle, you paddle off a step
Might buy a Bentley just to chief up in it
Go to the mountain, ski for a minute
And snack on the beats, sink my teeth up in it
Me and GS, a prehistoric link
I hit 'em with the whole kitchen floor and sink, they sweet like orange drink (Orange drink)
Is it true? Is it true?
Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, it's true
Written by: Alan Maman, Byron Simpson, James Webb
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