CHILLED MOMENTS
Lyrics documented Recording unresolved
A dusty-basement manifesto — real bars, no autotune, straight from the underground.
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Lyrics
Hook
All the new teenagers these days all wanna listen to some autotune —
so I got my speakers out my friend's car,
goin' blast like muthafuckin' BOOM.
Boom-boom-bap, what I fuckin' do:
kill raps and kill beats, comin' to you from the underground,
that's what I love to fuckin' do.
Verse 1
Spit a few bars from down up in my fuckin' room in the dusty basement,
I ain't tryna say no fuckin' fake shit —
made it up out the struggle, still, what the fuck I gotta do?
Fuck is up with you damn hater bitches,
hagglin' me when I walk outside?
Drip, drippy, drop a new joint, listen to the fuckin' drop —
bounce, boing-boing, bop.
You fuckin' wild, dumb-diddly-squat hoes
with the Diddy guap that anybody got —
and bitches is with my shit when I drip.
Verse 2
Tell me something I ain't fuckin' new to —
knew your girl was into me, so I told her,
"Baby girl, I can two-step right on into you."
Pause — that shit sound crazy if I was talkin' to you,
but I wasn't, dude, so fuck off, dude.
Staring at my walls on drugs — who else don't ever try to fuckin' do that?
Chilled moments, underground, real rap — tell me where the love at.
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