Lyrics

[Intro: Chilly D.] Yo, my name is D.J. Chilly D My man Donald D and Bronx Style Bob are gonna tell y'all what time it is Yo, D, tell the people the name of the game [First Verse: Donald D.] The mic is my gun, the trigger I'll pull it (pull it) Lyrics shoot out of my mouth like bullets Bronx, New York, my stomping ground The radio lets D be heard around Gangster Chronicle Read all the articles On the streets, you're bigger than a molecule Rappers are sweatin' 'Cause people are bettin' 10 to 1 that you'll be steppin' to the left (left) That's how I'll play you D cannot pay you Yes, then I'll slay you I'm a rebel, outlaw, I'm a gangster The beat is dope, it's heavy like a anchor Rhyme Syndicate, it's out of control On a roll, play the po, you'll lose your soul No smilin', just all out wilin' Sit back, relax, max money is pilin' (pilin') [Refrain: Chilly D.] D, D, Chil- Chilly (Chilly, Chilly) D, Chilly (Chilly, Chil- Chil- Chilly) Chil- Chil- Chil- Chilly D [Second Verse: Donald D.] 1988, another one dies Blown up to bits before civilian eyes Death on my doorstep, agents in my face I'm reachin' for my uzi in my violin case Constructions, I own 'em Loans, I loan 'em Forget to pay me back Contracts, I condone 'em Hurtin' is a business, and pain's my name And kickin' buckets is a part of the ga- ga- game Crimes are forever, to robbin, no never Avoidin' the feds, the family's too clever Writin' out blueprints, layin' rules Got my Gucci bag, Imma get paid too In planes I'm cruisin' Passport always usin' Suckers think I lie, about time for the bruisin'... …to start. I'm in my limousine, smoking out the city Born and raised, Bo Diddley Bo Diddley [Refrain: Chilly D.] D, D, Chil- Chilly (Chilly, Chilly) D, Chilly (Chilly, Chil- Chil- Chilly) Chil- Chil- Chil- Chilly D [Third Verse: Donald D.] Rappers, playing opposed to me is gross Not only on the east but on the west coast The girl is hawkin' when I'm walkin' The stage isn't ready for my rap-talkin' I'm a desperado, in my Eldorado With a girl who's a model, yeah I hit the lotto Takin' no shorts, I can't be caught At another airport. The ticket you brought To see Rhyme Syndicate [?] guard Like Mike Tyson, yo D, we hit hard (hard) God say, give power to the people You think I'm lethal? Watchin' the sequel Why is the president on my line? He knows what time it is He's praising my rhymes Bum rush the side of ya town in my vehicle Bass to the max, your dancin to the lyricals (lyricals) [Refrain: Chilly D.] D, D, Chil- Chilly (Chilly, Chilly) D, Chilly (Chilly, Chil- Chil- Chilly) Chil- Chil- Chil- Chilly D [Fourth Verse: Donald D.] I gamble in Nevada They call me Bobby Vega Lost my temper one time, cold stops, Schwarzenegger Walking in my pinstripes, brim on my dome Luger in my ankle, true name unknown (unknown) Born to be another homicide on the rock To die like a trooper getting blown up on the block Kidnap the senator, he's on my side But I think I have to take another judge for a ride Walk with a Bo Diddley not worth my while That's for the pimps brothers, they've got style (style) Colombian neckties, do 'em every day We'll plead for the fifth then I'm on my way (way) Walkin' down the boulevard, I'm strutting like a god With my head in the air and my hand on my rod (rod) I'll make you an offer that you can't refuse Like a kiss on the lips or leather concrete shoes Family meetings consist of vice and is Donald D and whizz are conducting biz Smokin' my stogie, cleanin' my gun Syndicate posse got suckers on the run [Instrumental Break] [Fifth Verse: Donald D.] Imma gangster boogie, courts can't abuse me People try to shoot me? I dive behind my floozy She takes the dum-dums cause she's the dummy I can't afford to die, man. I gotta make money! Lawyers, I employ them. Feds, I annoy them Hoes, I enjoy them. Witnesses, destroy them Prisons, I escape 'em. Cops, I rape them Heart attacks, I fake them. Casinos, I take them Women, I beat them. Other gods, I meet them Judges, I eat them. Prosecutors, I defeat them Got power, gettin' richer by the hour Suckers try to hit me? I must devour Ambitious, bullets ready to shoot Yo Don, that reporter Yeah, I'll kill 'em! (Kill 'em, kill 'em) [Outro: Unknown, ft. Ice T.] Donald D's rhymin' and Chilly D's cuttin' Party people, listen Like E I'm huntin', stop scopin' and hopin' That you'll get the info: Fast or slow I can go at any tempo On stage and arranged like Jack the Ripper You can never label us as ego-trippers We'll bully, breakin' those who stand in our path And ya face will need a major skin graft Yo, you know what I'm saying? You try'in to front on a microphone keyed to my man Bronx Style Bob Is you crazy? (unintelligible chatter) (Shoot the boy, man. Shoot the boy, man. Shoot the boy, man.) Don't you know what I'm saying? Yo, yo, tell those skeezers to back up You know what I'm saying? Before these suckers try to fight New York… Yo, yo, look there goes Ice T! Yo, step up baby NFG(?) Robinson is in the house Africa is a long rock on Rhyme Syndicate is in full effect Ho! NYC in the place