What You Got? - Chino XL

Y’all coward niggas make a nigga like me laugh

What the fuck yea, yea chargin' y’all niggas

Yea, yea behold the only thing greater than yourself

I’ll slash ya grill, don’t start me

You’ll be the only entertainer with less groupies than Biz Markie

I’m never dull, Chino the pretty thug, style centerfold

I’ll have every Latin in the country aimin' at ya skull

I’ll aim it at the Pope if he claimin' he sellin' the most dope

My Jersey blocks is locked tighter than prisoners hold soap

And listeners where we vote out ya CD and vinyl, the final result

Yell, fuck tricks and smoke, till our vocals combine with a Colt

They playi’n this in every club, whip, party and bar you in

Give you more blood clots than two Jamaicans arguin'

Sweat till ya fake silver platinum chains is tarnishin'

Women shakin' they ovaries, look what we accomplishin', what

We got better lyrics than you got (what you got)

We got better bitches than you got (what you got)

We run with more killas than you got (what you got)

We got better whips than you got (what you got)

We got better cribs than you got (what you got)

We got better bitches than you got (what you got)

We run with more killas than you got (what you got)

We got better lyrics than you got (what you got)

Coming to kill me, I can’t hear that

Fear is a stimulus I haven’t been programmed to feel yet

Snatch you outta your Roots like I’m from Illadelph

What I do to push your hairline back, Rogaine won’t help

My Quest for the Wealth, like Stone Cold Austin’s quest for the belt

I mention myself as a celestial cell, an extension of hell

At a lynching I smile, cut myself down, murder your guest list

My style never a drag like they do black men in Texas

Next rapper to mention this, I’mma show them the real threat

Cause I’mma ride till my daughters like «Daddy are we there yet»

Ain’t no priest in the streets, only drugs before miracles

See more keys than a lot of Hammer’s repossessed vehicles

Told you I was coming, you ain’t believe I’m assumin'

If we all super heroes, these bitch niggas must be Wonder Women

Fist to fist, skin to skin, I make you fall flat

Brat little niggas, the tat on my shoulder cover they whole back

Can’t hold back, splatter they whole rap to match my ((?))

Shittin' on MC’s, wipin' my ass on they notebooks

How the broke crooks in videos leave me stressed

I’ll turn on channel 2 if I wanna CBS, bitch

Least but not last, I’ll blast an informant

Until he has the cash to put end to his torment

Now shine up the brass for his coffin

I’m last of the rawest, my passion ain’t dormant

I’ve mastered the forces, I rap to the chorus

My cast is enormous, I’m fast and I’m cautious

Twenty inch arms stronger than forklifts

Smoke hash in front of reporters till I choke and they nauseous

And smash through the glass of your Porsche’s

Show you how Newark is as hard as divorces

Lay you out dead in the grass on the forest

My craft is flawless, have ya flesh wrapped in a blackened sausage

Blood Splashed across it for rhymin' like a fag in a cordless

Murder all witnesses, nosey, standing on porches

Like torches, super human, Chino’s skin never scorches

Drape your family reunion in black funeral mourners

Have cats that sell ya drugs for you, avoid usual corners

I never lost this mad lust to be rap’s Colossus

Breakin' companies, Jersey got women strapped inside they office

I got.

DJ Supporters and women makin' sex offers

I got.

A crib like a fortress, tuition for all my daughters

I got.

Rhymes hot like sauna’s, and thousands from Time Warner

I got.

Killas on every corner, surrounded by Jewish lawyers

What what what.