Bump Heads

Lyrics

[Hook: Mr. Cheeks & Big Gipp] Get that thick shit, peep how we flip shit ATL, NYC, Cheeks and Gipp shit That's how it's going down, this how we do shit Stay official on me, hit you with that new shit This that thick shit, this how we flip shit ATL, NYC, Cheeks and Gipp shit That's how it's going down, this how we do shit Stay official on me, hit you with that new shit [Verse 1: Mr. Cheeks] The mac of the year, I push the Cadillac of the year Bring the hot raps and tracks of the year Cheeks and Gipp representing from the hood Lets get this money, knew we would, it's all good I can't fuck around with you corny cats and corny raps Run around in your corny [?] and corny tracks Laid mine, kid and paid mine, I'm talking dues and all I played to win, mother fuckers, I refuse to fall [Big Gipp] My style is slomo, deface your ass like Polo Get fresh like a cursе in the photo We [?] of the gamе, grip the woodgrain in the rain Didn't know before it happened but it can [Mr. Cheeks] I skate through the city, I keep my whips pretty Keep my music loud and I moves the crowd Strictly business when I'm in this, niggas come and get it Stay tipsy, rhymes crispy like a Yankee fitted A bunch of copy cats, these cats love to copy Your invitation's flattering but yet you rap sloppy You need to chill, you need something official Weed to fill your Backwoods, I got respect up in these crack hoods [Hook] [Verse 2: Big Gipp] Know where I'm from? We'll keep the words slurred, fuck up a nerve Went from the dungeon to the curb to serve Remember when we turned up keys to birds Get up and you light that herb [Mr. Cheeks] This shit's ill, get out, do my thing and spits real Still call shorty [?] Ain't nothing change, man, it's the same old C Niggas know my style, the game know me [Big Gipp] Shoe size 13, label niggas in the [?], drop plugs, throw slugs Get hugs, swing hoes like the pros Been in every type of ghetto that you can go So fear, don't have none Disrespecting? Imma cut ya clean to the bone In the zone, leave your head flown Wigs twisted, leave you stiff like a perm First feet on the street, get the god damn worm [Hook] [Verse 3: Mr. Cheeks] Ayo, the [?], we do the same thing like when we roll Just some more cash, just some more smoke Stay with the white beaters, shell-toe Adidas Yo the crib, how we live get us off the [?] [Big Gipp] You ain't know? My turn to burn, your time to burn Break the window pane with this country twang You know the name, yeah, break left dip, change the script Wrote my own roles with the Pro Tools They got a dank head on Bankhead Pick up big figures on Washington Road It changed the code on the mold Ain't nothing sweet with Cheeks and Gipp If you want to go to war, brother, bring your guns and chips Yeah [Hook]