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Listen to SAMSON: THE ALBUM by CHIKA
ALBUMSAMSON: THE ALBUMCHIKA
Listen to Alt Rap featuring CHIKA
PLAYLISTAlt RapApple Music Hip-Hop
Listen to Bizness Boi: The Producers featuring CHIKA
PLAYLISTBizness Boi: The ProducersApple Music R&B

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
CHIKA
CHIKA
Vocals
Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs
Vocals
Derek Dixie
Derek Dixie
Programming
Arnetta Johnson
Arnetta Johnson
Horn
Cameron Johnson
Cameron Johnson
Horn
Christopher Gray
Christopher Gray
Horn
Gabrielle Garo
Gabrielle Garo
Horn
Jesse McGinty
Jesse McGinty
Horn
Lemar Guillary
Lemar Guillary
Horn
Lido
Lido
Programming
Mayer Hawthorne
Mayer Hawthorne
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Andrew Cohen
Andrew Cohen
Songwriter
Carron Mitchell
Carron Mitchell
Songwriter
Derek Dixie
Derek Dixie
Songwriter
Peder LosnegÄrd
Peder LosnegÄrd
Songwriter
Jane Chika Oranika
Jane Chika Oranika
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
CHIKA
CHIKA
Mixing Engineer
Derek Dixie
Derek Dixie
Producer
Mike Bozzi
Mike Bozzi
Mastering Engineer
Dani Pampuri
Dani Pampuri
Recording Engineer
Lester Mendoza
Lester Mendoza
Mixing Engineer
Marcelinho Ferraz
Marcelinho Ferraz
Mixing Engineer
Lido
Lido
Producer
Mayer Hawthorne
Mayer Hawthorne
Producer

Lyrics

New house, new whip New clothes, new drip Stay fly, take trips Just grind, no tips Don't cry, make hits All net, no bricks Fuck facts, just spit No time, clock tick (be honest) New house, new whip New clothes, new drip (go ahead and be honest) Stay fly, take trips Just grind, no tips (might as well keep it honest) Don't cry, make hits (you want it, you got it) All net, no bricks (truth or dare, just be honest) Fuck facts, just spit No time, clock tick, yeah This ain't no cap for no app nigga, tell me the truth 'Cause when we in person, you swear that you hurtin' So what you TL 'bout to do? Niggas be hella uncouth, you ain't found no one to listen But you know 'bout twelve that'll shoot Most of them yessin' in hopes of the blessing That one day you gon' let them step in the booth, huh We both know that shit's a lie, uh Loyalty looks like a bribe, uh You know the industry cold And so you gon' do what it takes to survive Meanin' you'll call me at any odd hour to vent But don't ever reach out to say hi Maybe that worked for a fan who doesn't know that they're dope But not me, nigga, I'm twenty-five, huh Maybe I've gotten too old and Maybe the magic has died, uh Maybe I learned that a hero Was only amazin' before I could fly, uh Maybe my wings are a threat So you keepin' me close in case you take a dive, uh And maybe I love you too much to go harder Or worse, I'm afraid we alike New house, new whip New clothes, new drip Stay fly, take trips Just grind, no tips Don't cry, make hits All net, no bricks Fuck facts, just spit No time, clock tick (be honest) New house, new whip New clothes, new drip (go ahead and be honest) Stay fly, take trips Just grind, no tips (might as well keep it honest) Don't cry, make hits (you want it, you got it) All net, no bricks (truth or dare, just be honest) Fuck facts, just spit No time, the clock tick I'll dare myself to be real without fear that I'll say too much Fuck it, I'm sensitive Then I get mad, I get passive sarcastic I know that I play too much, and might hit the J too much Sue me, I'm human, flawed, I am fluent A hot-headed bitch tearful bitch, damn it, I'm humid I stay stackin' ammo, I know I won't use it The secret's a key, and I'm likely to lose it Oh, chaos? I choose it, I'm bored with the regular Even my psychotic episodes scheduled How did I get everything I ever wanted But I'll still be green? Might as well call me Elphaba Even the deadlines be too much for me And I'm only productive with shrooms in my tea And I'm perfectly fine with neglecting my needs I'm a slave to the mental shit nobody sees, yeah I think this shit's gotten old I'm only here for the vibes (yeah, yeah) Bored of complainin', I'm told that I'm drainin' Depression? I'll keep it inside (yeah) Nowadays, music about a few seconds That makes you sway from side to side (yeah) Why am I thinkin' so much 'bout my lyrics? For real, I'm just wastin' my time (yeah) Lately, I don't pay attention The rap shit is really a waste of my time, yeah (yeah, yeah) Homies fell off 'cause they thought it would come overnight They were scared of the grind This loyalty shit is fictitious now Only see you when bottles and bitches out And you do so much dick-eatin' Can't really tell if you're dressed for the hoes or the niggas now Ho, how do you feel me now? Cry me a river now I wish ninety percent of these rappers Would go get a job application and fill it out (fill it out, yeah) Kinda funny, the same niggas that I was hatin' Is callin' my enemies snitches now Man, this shit writes itself, I don't script it out (yeah) Brand new Porsche 911, I kit it out (yeah) I was rollin' but picture me pimpin' (yeah, yeah) Now cry me a river now Peace to the game Rhyme still kills in the streets for the game But lately, I've been chillin' with my kids 'cause a nigga 'bout to live Then be six feet deep for the game Niggas goin' six feet deep for the fame End up in six by six for the clout A nigga gotta stay ten toes down So kill all the rest, let the real niggas out Fuck the police, let a real nigga breathe Every day, they wanna see another nigga bleed (yeah) So how I'm supposed to act when I'm Black in traffic And they tryna wack me, and I'm down on my knees Niggas goin' six feet deep for the cheese End up in six by six for the clout A nigga gotta stay ten toes down So kill all the rest, let my real niggas out Let my real niggas out (be honest) New house, new whip New clothes, new drip (go ahead and be honest) Stay fly, take trips Just grind, no tips (might as well keep it honest) Don't cry, make hits (you want it, you got it) All net (truth or dare, to be honest) Fuck facts, just spit No time, the clock tick
Writer(s): Andrew M Cohen, Jane Oranika, Derek James Dixie, Peder Losnegaard Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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