Music Video

ChillinIT - Overkill
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Chillinit
Chillinit
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Chris Rich Beats
Chris Rich Beats
Composer
Blake Turnell
Blake Turnell
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Chris Rich Beats
Chris Rich Beats
Producer
Mickey Kojak
Mickey Kojak
Mixing Engineer
Wayne Sunderland
Wayne Sunderland
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

More money, more problems (Turn me up all the way) More money, more problems (Turn it up all the way) More money, more problems, yeah, yeah More money, more problems Christopher Wallace, they'll kick in my door Stick to the facts, look at my plaques Now there be levels, so stick to the score Speaking of levels, my girl be the devil And she wants to smoke on the sixtieth floor She want it rough, she wanna fuck Man on the phone, she's missing the call, missing the call I said, "What, mate? Brother, how you on the rocks and you not straight?" How you on the top? You're not, your shit drop When it flop, can't stick 'em See through like Scotch tape Brother got the ganja fumes, I passed ya, dude Ya bars are stupid like hot flame Drop like a Asian barbecue My party room has got chopsticks and a hot plate MH17, you're a lost case Yeah, I'm better with the steeze, you ain't got game But you're honest to promise I'm gettin' on it Gettin' stoned like Onyx, throw rotten like Dot name (Oi, cunt) You ain't got Gucci (Oi, cunt) You ain't got groupies And you can't even weigh up a gram Is it double-oh seven like a James Bond movie? You can't spit like Dons, hit rick like Ross, I'm a big time boss Get the paper, sniff the white, I'm like Dana Midnight thot on a midnight drop Yeah, what? Brudda, what? Wanna get my spot? Brudda, fuck it, I won it, so you can piss right off Brudda, fuck it, I run it, so get your money for nothing You wanna act real hard, but your inside soft You get smoked like weed in the house You're a rat like 6iine was Your girl get good D on the couch 'Cause she love all the big nice prof– Kick back when you see me around Big stacks and my big, nice watch I get money without leaving my house I guess I call that a inside job Brudda, I'm a star like Ringo Ting go da-da-da-da, that's lingo Blaze on the herb, you heard the spliff burns So I might steal your baby girls, I'm like dingoes She go spend your last, so I'm gringo She's gonna bend it back, it's like limbo She's gonna bend it back, bend it back Yeah, she gonna bend it back, rah Brother, I'm in and out your lane I could headbutt a brother like Zinedine Zidane I get head rush, brother, I'm in a house of pain Get a headfuck, brother, I lift back your frame, like Family first, heart is still broken, my heart be in pain Fuck this emotion, I don't feel emotion I don't show emotion, I laugh in your face Fuck all my friends, fuck their revenge I know that karma could come in a day Down for the streets, but why would I beef When the shit I release hit the chart in a day? Money get made, I rock Louis like Suarez Brother get the robbin' like Arjen Rock with a ounce, gee, strike, emcee's Lewandowski Brother get up and gone in a half-sec Well, I'm gonna half-step, yeah, the hard flow kill ya On the defence, Thiago Silva Rock them, Sydney to Tottenham Brother got the pot up in the van of my Tarago, silver Packed out van full of saddies, mayne Your girl callin' me daddy, mayne Back in the day, it was on RV Like a Tottenham king, that's Harry Kane Yeah, I do this, that's true shit Little hunnies I'm fuckin', they all be too thick Your girl's toothpick My girl on a boat with a P and a O, cruise ship You wanna do this? Want smoke? Pass the hookah Been midfield like Luka You know the bars are the bomb and the bars could nuke ya So bang, brudda, bang, brudda, master shooter Let me play, take leaves like Mark Viduka Little bae got tits, thick hips, big bitch In the back of my van doing Kama Sutra When did this happen? Now I got these hunnids and dope in my whip Now I got thotties that speaking in Spanish And she wanna fuck and then smoke on the spliff Bottle for bottle, she callin' me daddy And she wanna fuck while her throat's in my grip And I count all my money I make off my rappin' And cut some Columbian coke off the brick We on some shit Brother, that's overdrive I said, brother, yeah, brother, that's overdrive And yeah, I own the mic, stoned the skill, you know the drill Yeah, I ride for my bros for life Because everybody talks online Talk like you know me, bro, that's fine You don't like me, I don't like you I feel the same, but you cunts wanna speak my name I said, okay, brother, that's overdrive Yeah, brother, yeah, brother, that's overdrive Yeah, brother, yeah, brother Yeah, brother, yeah, brother Yeah, brother, yeah, brother, that's overdrive, ugh, yeah Now I'm going overkill, I said, ugh Now I'm going overkill, I said, huh Now I'm going overkill, I said, ugh, ugh
Writer(s): Christopher John Richardson, Blake Turnell Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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