Chino XL - What You Lookin' At lyrics

rate me

[Chorus:]

I, see, you, you, see, me

We, got, beef, you, try, to, hi-ide (can't hide nigga)

What the fuck you lookin at?

The next, time, I, see, your, face (yo, can't stop it, uh-uh)

I'm, gon', swing, or, shoot, on, si-ight (yo, soon as I see)

What the fuck you lookin at?

[Chino XL:]

Yo... yo, yo

Where's he at, where's he been?

Don't count on a, calculator nigga you can count on Poison Pen (for what?)

To spit it like he got some sort of a cold

And this fork in the road is that I expose without talkin in codes

Blacker than niggaz eyes like they Lincoln limo tinted windows

You need protection like you fuckin [edited] widow

I ain't here to play man games, don't wanna arm wrestle

I pull out them thangs and blow out your brain vessel [BLAM]

That's what actin insane'll get you

I ain't your cable company nigga cause physically I'll come disconnect you

Disrespect you in front of your main bitch

Can't change this, throw you a hundred like "Kid, change this"

It's dangerous speakin to me in a tone containin anguish

I'm handin out revenge like it's a main dish

I give a FUCK if you speak Spanish or English

An ass whippin is an ass whippin in any language

You panic sensin my manic rage and aggression

Only bitch you see inside of my eyes is your reflection

It's in the rest of you, dead in a Def Jam restroom

Murder's a big investment, I'll bring it from small intestine

It's like we in a Western, movie with Charlton Heston

You needed to learn a lesson, this is your point of reference

It's embarrassin how bad you turned on me

Now you on the wrong side like steering wheels in cars in Germany

I got the DVD of your wife gettin killed and raped

And everybody watched it like the Paris Hilton tape

Yo where I'm from there ain't no scared hearts (nope)

Had a twin brother but I murdered him, now I'm usin his body for spare parts

[Chorus]

[Chino XL:]

Yo, and until somebody verse me, ain't showin no kind of mercy

And don't call me homie unless you was born in Jersey

I got a gay gun and it kiss men {*whistling*}

That ain't old school Public Enemy playing, that's bullets whistlin

And since I'm in the Benz cops stalk me

He got on that walkie-talkie, now he can't walky or talky (force me)

I'm the type of crazy case

Inhale the weed as deep as I can and blow the smoke in a newborn baby's face

I'm never gettin on "Punk'd" - fuck that!

They'll bury that faggot Ashton Kutcher in his red trucker hat (welcome back)

I'm 'bout to have all these cowards that rap

where they get to heaven God will contact me to ask me where the hell they at

The verbal god, I murder your entire entourage

I got so many edges on rappers that I'm an octogon

We can't get along cause when you rhyme you just wastin our time

I'm makin sure the name Chino XL ain't no oxymoron

A braided napalm, streets created me like Frankenstein

Wan' shoot yourself? Suit yourself like Puff wearin Sean John

I cause charm like I'm flyin an Iranian airline

Even Indian niggaz know that they better keep they dots calm

I'm crossin a line with more lines crossed and are lost

that made mark in a time on a wall of a cell losin his mind

So I speak of pollution and crime over beats executioner's kind

But Lucifer's kind was producin millions induced me to sign

I only wanna rhyme hard - I refuse to do this

for everybody else but me like a blind chick with a boob job

Now who want, what?

Who wanna get punched, stabbed, shot, stomped, jumped?

Basically fucked the fuck up!

[Chorus x2]