Bump Heads - Mr.Cheeks feat Big Gipp

Yeah man, without the R&B shirts
Yeah no sh_t, yeah
Who is on in this club here?
Mr. Cheeks and Gipp
Strictly bootin' is the jeans
Hoods, hats..
Let's roll man
Ready? check this...
What we gon' do with this here
Tell 'em man
Mr. Cheeks...
Bump heads
Hot sh_t is what we bring
You know, constantly
Yeah basically

[Chorus - 2x]:

[Big Gripp]:
Get that sick sh_t

[Mr. Cheeks]:
Peep how we flip sh_t

[Big Gripp]:

[Mr. Cheeks]:
N-Y-C, Cheeks and Gipp sh_t

[Big Gripp]:
That's how it's goin' down

[Mr. Cheeks]:
This how we do sh_t

[Big Gripp]:
Stay official
Let me hit you with that new sh_t

[Verse 1 - Mr. Cheeks]:
The mack of the year
I puts the Cadillac of the year
Bring that raps, hops, and tracks of the year
Cheeks and Gipp representin' from the hood
Let's get this money, knew we would, it's all good
I can't f_ck around with you corny cats
The corny raps, run around in your corny caps
Corny tracks
Lay mine, kid, and pay mine
I'm talkin' usin' all
I plan to win motherf_ckers, I refuse to fall

[Big Gipp]:
My style's slo-mo
Deface your ass like Polo
Get fresh like a Gersian to fo' door
We laws of the game
Rip the wood grain, in the rain
Didn't know before I had to make the cane

[Mr. Cheeks]:
I skate through this city
I get my whips pretty
Keep my music loud, and amuse the crowd
Strictly menace when I'm in this n_ggas come and get it
Stay tipsy, rhymes crispy, like a Yankee fi'ty
I punch the copy cats, these cats love to copy
Your imitations flattering, but yet your raps sloppy
You need to chill, you need some official weed
To fill you backwards, I got respect up in these crack woods


[Verse 2 - Big Gipp]:
Know where I'm from?
We'll keep your words stirred, f_ck off a nerd
Went from the dungeon to the grr to serve
Remember where we turn them keys to birds
Get up and you like that word

[Mr. Cheeks]:
Yo, this sh_t's ill
Can I do my thing and spits real
Still call shorty's Miss Still
Ain't nothin' changed, man it's the same ol' C
N_ggas know my style the game know me

[Big Gipp]:
Yeah, shoe size thirteen
Label n_ggas in the south Queens
Dops lugs, grow slugs, get hugs
Swing bows like the pros
Been in every type of ghetto that you could go
So, be out down have none
Disrespect and I'm a cut you clean til the bone
In the zone, leave your head thrown
Weaves twisted, leave ya stiff like a perm
First beat, on the street, get the God damn worm


[Verse 3 - Mr. Cheeks]:
Aiyo, the team's in, we do the same thing like we were broke
Just some more cash, just some more smoke
Stay with the wifey, the show's over diz
Yo, the crib, how we live, game is off the meter

[Big Gipp]:
They know, my time to burn, your time to burn
Break the window pane with this country twang
You know the name, Gipp
Break lip, dip, change the script
With my cornrows with the on two
I get a dank hit on blanket
Pick up bank figures while watching the road
It's kinda cold on the mode
Ain't nothin' sweet with chicks and Gipp
If you wanna go to war, brother bring your guns and chips


This for all them boys that didn't know
Cheeks and Gipp done hooked up man
And we're gonna go from the tower
All the way down to land
All the way out West Coast
We gon' rock this thang
Cheeks and Gipp
We gon' flow through with that boat
We out, air force and bell bottoms
For the two, whatever you wanna call it baby

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