Pass the 40 ft. Chi-Ali
Black Sheep
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Lyrics
Yo, what's up, Black?
Ah, bust it
Nigga, come on
Check this out, check this out
Listen, all this shit y'all talkin' ain't got no clout
We'll pass the forty around and we'll see who got some skills
I mean, um, if you got 'em, you got 'em
And if you don't, you're over
So Mr. Long, listen, I give this brew to you
But first I'ma pour some out for my man Peewee
And do what you gotta do, aight, Black?
I got you, Black
Damn
Aight, bust it
I'm the sugar dick daddy, fuck what you think
Pass the forty right by me 'cause you know I don't drink
I remain sober when I drop a hit
But I put gum in my ass 'cause I like to pop shit
When it comes to pullin' guns, I might do it
But put your guard up, Black, and I'ma run right through it
Don't sleep on the sauce thinkin' I'm easy to beat
'Cause I be up in that ass like a bike seat
And when it comes to bonin', I'm Mr. Erection, see
Hoes come by the crib for a free hysterectomy
I got a dick that I brag about
I put it in fast and I drag it out
Girls, I'll be the special friend, see
'Cause your man suffers from pseudo-penis envy
I do damage, oh, um
The sugar dick is guaranteed to make you cum
Now I pass the forty 'cause you heard from me
So go get a forklift, Chi-Ali
Well, I'm too young for forties and too young for blunts
The only thing I'm not too young for is the stunts
The girlies, the ladies, I love 'em with a passion
But back to the mic 'cause I'm always down for action
Many MCs fall to the dust
Some will bust 'cause I bust and I crush, you can't touch
I'm the child of the wild, flavor of the now
I gave you plenty of chances, still can't fuck with this style
Now that you know Chi-Ali can't be tooken
Pass the forty 'cause my mother's not lookin'
Yo, give me that, kid
You're posin' with your head in a morgue
Listen to Hot Diggity Dog
Diggity Dog is back on the yes, I'm definitely here to stay
Pass me the forty, pass me the forty, pass it if you may
Because my Jimmy is hard and yes, I have a ho to slay
And when I'm fuckin' up bitches they go, "Huh!"
When I'm fuckin' up bitches they go, "Huh!"
Y'all drink a forty, I'll drink a Guinness Stout
And when I see your ho, I'm out
Yo, Baby Chris, pass me the keys to the car
I'm runnin' late for my mรฉnage ร trois
Pass it, tap it, and then crack it
Take a small swig, but down it like a pig
You're too tipsy to operate the stick of a mic
You suckers are strikin' flight
Here's a DWI for driving drunk with the mic
From Chi to Long and all those in this fight
Loosen your grip because you're holding it too tight
I'll take a body count, I know my body count is right
Five drunk niggas from my left to my right
And maybe your ho that I'm with tonight
But it's alright, yo, it's alright
So Dave, my grip is getting weak
Grab the forty so I can hear you speak
I live large, caviar, limos
Spend most of my time refusin' bullshit demos
Can you understand? Do you understand?
Well, let me explain, I'm the A&R man
Dave Gossett, yes, I rock it
I rip the mic and I stuff pockets
Don't believe me? Ask the sheep, see
They got the money, think it's funny, always scoopin' all the honeys
Oops, I meant to say ho
Wrote my own rhyme, what, you didn't know?
Uh-oh, I see a strobe light, ho
I gotta go, I gotta go
Yo, Dres, it's your turn
Act like gonorrhea and burn, baby, burn
Step into the booth and give 'em proof
That Black Sheep don't need jack to get loose
And rip a roof, loosen a tooth
You're in my fuckin' way, so move
And let a nigga get smooth
Honeys claimin' close 'cause my goods are on display, so
I play 'em like vitamins and take a ho a day
I pull 'em like a dentist, mold 'em like a teacher
Knock 'em like a bowler, please 'em like a preacher
Step, get a man, go to school, join a band
It makes no difference whether
Dres is the type of brother that will hit that ass forever
'Cause I'm clever, never have I ever
Lost my sight or said might or went a boneless night
Not talkin' 'bout chicken, but if she's finger-lickin'
I will let it be known, don't bite the bone
Microphones, I like 'em 'cause they let me amplify
So don't reach for the sky, you know you can't fly
But still you reach up higher, a Black Sheep type desire
Then you look at me 'cause I'm a frequent flyer
So now you got beef, chief, grief will be your claim
I sport a full metal jacket, give your beef some lo mein
'Cause I'm swingin' like a swinger, singin' like a singer
I'm lookin' for your finger or your ho, so did you bring her?
Oh, I'm just bullshittin', almost time for quittin'
There's money to be made and booty to be hittin'
Look and you will see, Dres, that's who I be
A divine incline of mine is studio time