Random Axe - Chewbacca lyrics

rate me

[Verse 1: Sean Price]

Chewbacca!

Duece-duece, Papa now rocking your shoes proper

True shotta, nigga you noose [knows] nada

My three vs. your four, who crew's hotter?

Random!

Everbody on my team is winners

Everybody on your team beginners

Why you do that, rapper? Fucking new-jack rappers

Flinch when I walk by cause I do smack rappers

Sean the Barbarian

Deadly dose of the dope shit, black tar heroine

The best out, bar-for-bar, Paw

His god given talent scream "Al hum du'Allah"

You got no skills (skills) you got no talent (talent)

You're shit no frills and your bitch toss salad

Niggas rap albums sound like love letters

Pen in my hand like 'Damn, fam, I can do much better'

[Verse 2: Guilty Simpson]

I write classics, you can't hack it

You know what it is, in the room with the floor covered in plastic

Passive, never got a street-cat pay so I'm active

Stay back, I keep that blade

'Hi, hater'

I'll carve a smile right next to your frown like "Laugh Now, Cry Later"

Potato on the barrel french-fry ten guys

For major violations, call it annihilation

Your tough talk, I don't get it

You wouldn't fight a ticket, so why recite a lyric?

Especially when lyrics get a rifle at your fitted

I'm sure the buck so, tell Pac "What up though?"

My fours better be real

You wanna be tough? Alright, you'll forever be steel

Still, I get nicer yet out-ice ya'

And rhyme with the force of a Jedi cyhper

[Verse 3: Roc Marciano]

Marcberg, baby fire it off

Split your cabbage, bitch ass rappers spit garish

Live lavish, Mac-10's under big jackets

Hit me a pass, flip that mattress

Remember the patterns, the five stay dipping in traffic

Parle stiff in the cabin

With axes, dismember a faggot

Limbs is scattered and littered with maggots

Splashed with gas, we lit up matches

That's for acting real tepid and passive

Ya'll asking to give out passes

I pull up, get out Astons

But, never without ratchets

Bustas feel our wrath and

Butlers will fill our glasses

Brothers ain't up in our bracket

Slugs from the gattlin' spin out rappin'

Flip the casket, lyrics is crafted

Hit them with the plastic and then I'll pass it