Ransom - The Chopper lyrics

[Produced by Statik Selektah] [Verse 1: Jon Connor] I got a vendetta, who make hits? My hands better The flow is money like I wet up the bank teller The tattle tellers tell us we lock it, that's being modest Cause I'm a motherf**er, your momma is in to bondage I promise I bomb it, drunk with power, this Gin and Tonic Where I'm from n***as'll have you singing like Harry Connick So fake thug sh** and that drug sh**, homie, stop it I'm from where n***as get popped and hold that dope in the sockets This real sh** we deal with and ignorance There is an illness no pill could heal, n***a feel this What can you tell us? We see d**h up out the window Our friends go just as fast as the wind blows We wishing we could be as happy as the Winslows The pain of my kinfolks in every pen stroke Fly, fly, fly, fly city And I'mma hold it down til God come and get me Look, this for the people who think it's easy enough They say pound the pavement, sh**, we beating it up Get robbed for bread cause n***as ain't eating enough In the club deep as the f** every weekend heating it up I could tell you what the news like n***as you knew on the tube the past two nights Here there ain't no such thing as do right, just move right Cause half the n***as in the hood got two strikes Play your position, overpopulated with liquor stores The liquor pours to a drunk mind that think ''what am I living for?'' You drowning by the conditions that we are surrounded by The sh** that we hate is the sh** that we bounded by See true beef is when somebody stop breathing Not the sh** rappers do, I mean really, somebody leave it My neighborhood it be safer to pack a vest Unless you think your momma look good in that black dress This Connor [Verse 2: Ransom] Lyrically I cause a holocaust when bottles toss, it's Molotovs Mob hits, n***as is screaming ''he shot the boss'' While I'm drunk as hell laughing, stumbling out the court They dumping them by the park, that's something I'm not involved The sweet sounds of the street serenade for lack of a better phrase It's sour so we're asking for better days The power of the black that was led astray Blasting the lead away, cemetaries packing the dead away The mind of a lost soldier before closure My poor shoulders carry the weight of four boulders Life's kinda rocky like Sly before Cobra So call Oprah, take a piss on that who*e's sofa Everybody's balling, but Ran won't cross over The more money, the more snakes, the more vultures They talk funny, they all fakes, I'm all focused My prognosis is high doses, hitting them up like Pac wrote this These co*kroaches scurry around when the lights off I give 'em a thriller as soon as the mic's on Tyson, [?] tattoos cover his pythons Icon, a seat on the throne, that's what's my sight's on Controlling the heat, they say I'm like 'Bron But I ignite bombs, verbal abortion, serving 'em portions Of d**h, ain't no rest in peace sleep, turn in your coffin And I was turned to an orphan, I don't pay a preacher f** religion, I go into your church and burn up the offerings Motherf**ers, so what you offering? I only talk money, my n***a, so what you talking? See one time so I hold my gun A drunk mind speaks a sober tongue so you supposed to run Exerminator with a hard drive of Plans to save the game, but never return the data I'm gone