Chop Chop ft. Stevie Stone & Wordplay Lyrics

Call me the G.O.A.T., we are not the same

Levitate, float, go against the grain

Buddy just a host, I'm not entertained

I just wanna pimp it, no attention, all lame

I been going hard since the day that

I came, From the A.M. to the P.M., what the fuck about the plan

Little working on my nerves, but the spot for a slam

Saw some zombies in the Lu, wait for me to O.K. him

I know this pussy nigga didn't say that

Send a shockwave through his wave cap

Put my balls on the table, feel the wave

What you did to the homie, motherfucker, this is payback

Homie really know I been bucking, it really

Tis nothing to hear nothing

I'm head-busting, I fear nothing

Stevie Stone and Wyshmaster with hollow tips

You ready to pierce something

Let me talk about it

Pull up to the block with the chop chop

Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down

This is not your ordinary hotbox

Team Stone, niggas, we don't fuck around

When I leave the scene, there's a man down

9-1-1, call the paramedics

Self-made nigga, no handouts

Big Stone goin' check the analytics

B to the dash, C.I.D.E., Blowing out the smoke like a local F.D.

Take another toke like one, two, three

Blowing out the smoke, well, you know me

Catch another pack, got them pounds

Find another heater, pop them rounds

My fingertips is numb from bagging all this work

I'm about to get them racks and stack all of this cash up

But doubters say you never had it, never will be nothing

There's OGs in the game that say these people clearly bluffing

I had it, it's classic, right this, cause my life's tragic

Pull up to the block with the chop chop

Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down

This is not your ordinary hotbox

Team Stone, niggas, we don't fuck around

When I leave the scene, there's a man down

9-1-1, call the paramedics

Self-made nigga, no handouts

Big Stone goin' check the analytics

Dressed in all black, yes, I'm black and offended

All these cats get smacked for the feelings with your brand

It's a shame I'm casting these demons, I ain't packing arena

There's some gas in the Beamer, who would've thought

I would fall right through a center

Man, it's the M, even the devil shoots his dinner

The man with his fillers, out for the dinner

You out for a spanky, top drop, and the winner

Hey, you ain't like my coat though

Press your vocal chords right through your nose hole

Check your mic, then the level of the chord

I need to hear your breathing, sample your vocals

I've been loco, skits so crazy

It's amazing how I've been lately

Oh no, maybe the day they go to get you

Right in the Smithers' basement

Pull up to the block with the chop chop

Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down

This is not your ordinary hotbox

Team Stone, niggas, we don't fuck around

When I leave the scene, there's a man down

9-1-1, call the paramedics

Self-made nigga, no handouts

Big Stone goin' check the analytics

Pull up to the block with the chop chop

Get you a couple limbs, I'ma walk him down

This is not your ordinary hotbox

Team Stone, niggas, we don't fuck around

When I leave the scene, there's a man down

9-1-1, call the paramedics

Self-made nigga, no handouts

Big Stone goin' check the analytics