Stackin Chips - 3X Krazy

All draped in teal

Givin' 'em somethin' they can feel

You can call me the Man Of Steel

Kryptonite couldn’t kill

Givin' all breezies the chills

Bumping Keep It On The Real

And you blindfolded

If you thought I wasn’t gone make a mil'

Been trying to further since the sixth grade

It’s urgent that I get paid

Flowamatic when my shit’s laid

And representing that 3 Kray'

Mind set on one thang (What's that?)

That scrilla scratch pay

Two strikes, hit of the day

And just kick it like Xscape

Some suckers hate

But not dem playa, man they love me

And always got something to say on guppies looking lovely

Smelly

Me, Big B and Charlie

Rolling spiffy

And spinning like the rear end of a nifty

I strictly, dig the breezies on me

Hit the cock, something lav, then I pass it to my homie

Tricks be phony

Paging me and B at the same time

Seeing who’ll call back first but ABBA ABBA ain’t mine

I gots no time to wine and dine

Cause once they’ve been on the phone it’s just a waste of time

Off the Rhine

And blunts, them stunts be devastatin'

Pistols out the window, shoot while the whole car figure-eightin'

I’m trying to stack my chips

So I, clock a grip

Then I, make some hits

And I, take a sip

So I, sticks to scripts

Hits my licks

It ain’t nothing like them big head green dead presidents

Let a nigga change your Franklins

They don’t take shits in the telly

and ready for fetti so bring the steak and spaghetti

Niggas done let me

Dig deep in they fucking grab bag

Can’t slip, cause deep in they wallets is where my cash at

I’m on a, first come, first serve basis

When I, hit the casinos, I’m headed out Reno to Vegas

Stacking potatoes, no matter the cause or consequence

Evident, I’m about my scratch and I’m about to represent

Through the crowd, reeking aloud of Omega

Fresh out like Mike but coming back like the Raiders

Uh, I kill 'em in my gators, just pimping and players

Linens, cannolis and Rollies, I’m headed straight to the tailors

Could give a fuck I’m in Vegas

Bitch, so blaze up the dank

From Killa Cali to Bali, then sit as Ceaser’s for steaks

These bitches beggin' for plates

So they touching sidewalks and bullets

Better prepare for the schooling

Never worry I’m overruling

Don’t talk till ya do it

Plus pissy drunk off the fluid

Hookers, good luck at the crookin', looking for B.A.

to do it?

I can’t wait for the mission to killin'

Just getting scrilla from kid stacks millions

500 drop on the spot on top of the ceiling

That’s on the reala, a pimp in my, fucking rhyme

Like 'Ball and MJG make sure you call it like you see it

Just a genius, I know ya seen us, in the wind

So perving is just a matter of time before I do you in

Off the gin, 500 Benz, got me slidin'

So bury the player haters and knock the game out the line

I’m trying to stack my chips

So I, clock a grip

Then I, make some hits

And I, take a sip

So I, sticks to scripts

Hits my licks

It ain’t nothing like them big head green dead presidents

I’m trying to stack my chips

So I, clock a grip

Then I, make some hits

And I, take a sip

So I, sticks to scripts

Hits my licks

It ain’t nothing like them big head green dead presidents

It’s going down in the Bay

Flossin' cold cash around your area

Thought you heard of a nigga that’s stackin' mo' chips

Than the Bank Of America

Droppin' them bombs like a specialist

Finger done eager to kill 'em all up

Murderous mind, no misdemeanor

Listen to the bark comin', I go buck

Sparkin' off the krayzomatic

Sparkin' up my bluntomatic

Stackin' chips up in the attic

Buckin' 'em every time with the Flowamatic

Get ready to get dusted

Fill up the bag with all your cash or catch a blast

No bluff we bustin'

So run it everybody, go do yo math by A.G.E the sick-o-path

Lift you up outta yo shoes for runnin' your mouth

Hit 'em up with the pump then put him in the trunk with the bump

Krazy, mistreat that ass

I’ma slide wit' a clip and a gat that’ll blast

Talking like some loud mouth batch is enough to have that ass subtracted

They claiming they be jacking

But I’m a tell you niggas be acting when they rapping

Got shit full blown ass backwards

Prolly got a lil' strap but scared to bust a strap

Come around my way bustin' strap

Nigga I’m talking 'bout bustin' back

It results in this money and the power

Making about a G an hour

Runnin' machines around this bitch that’ll buck to ya cowards

And I ain’t forgot about what you said ho

Nigga you’ll come up missing from that lead smoke

Gat that ass, fully Mac that ass, another dead foe

Hit him up, get him up, pick him up

I pop my trunk, no need for the ambulance

That boy ain’t getting up

Call the coroner to pick him up

Zip him up, split him up, technical choppin' him up

Funk got big enough fucking with the rigg him up

Light him up, sickaluff get sick enough

Gotta get my cash just like Mitchell

Get your cats before they get you

It’s clear as the picture in my 600 Benz

That I’m out for my dead presidents

I’m trying to stack my chips

So I, clock a grip

Then I, make some hits

And I, take a sip

So I, sticks to scripts

Hits my licks

It ain’t nothing like them big head green dead presidents

I’m trying to stack my chips

So I, clock a grip

Then I, make some hits

And I, take a sip

So I, sticks to scripts

Hits my licks

It ain’t nothing like them big head green dead presidents

I’m trying to stack my chips

So I, clock a grip

Then I, make some hits

And I, take a sip

So I, sticks to scripts

Hits my licks

It ain’t nothing like them big head green dead presidents

I’m trying to stack my chips

So I, clock a grip

Then I, make some hits

And I, take a sip

So I, sticks to scripts

Hits my licks

It ain’t nothing like them big head green dead presidents