Fat Raps (Remix)

[Intro: Don Cannon & Chuck Inglish]

Couldn't wait for this one

Fat Raps remix

Yeah

Chuck Inglish

[Verse 1: Chuck Inglish]

And it's fallin' off the side like back fat

Givin' girls rides to the crib, not a rat trap

Cheese, peanut butter freeze raps, I want all these snapped

And it's back in the day, like a tall-tee tag

I need that whip clean, G, what's the weather gon' be?

Drop-top, no drips on this upholstery

Supposed to be headed downtown, car wash like Bilal

And my girl drive the Chevy while I break this tree down

Roll the window back up; good, turn it back up

Ugh, UGK: "Diamonds & Woods"

Hold up, yeah, roll up, that's tight, that's right

You do this right, you might have the time of your life

[Verse 2: Dom Kennedy & Big Sean]

Yo, coming from the west side, but my fitted say Sox

Where you get banged on if you in it or not

Looking like Caine 'cause I watch 'Menace' (A lot)

And I'm tryna fuck your friend, so is she with it or not? (Ah)

Shout out to ATL 'cause I'm in Lennox a lot (Uh-huh)

And I don't like looking—I go in there to cop

Houston High Rollere—I go in there a lot

Spendin' money with the strippers—you go in there to watch (Ugh)

Blowing on L's (L), smelling like Chanel (Uh-huh)

You say you the man, but dog, these bitches can't tell (Nah)

But ladies love Dom, 'cause I'm gettin that mail (C'mon)

To make it out my hood is like to make it out of jail (Yeah)

Put the tens up and start breakin' out the twelves

Bet I have your girlfriend shakin' out her heels (Ugh)

We shaking all deals (Ugh) and chasing all meals (Sean Don, nigga, boi, boi, boi)

I'm popping all over, how you haters all feel, huh? (Okay)

[Verse 3: Big Sean & Boldy James]

Smoke good (Smoke good), fuck better (Fuck better)

Count money (Count money), what's better? (What's better?)

These lil' niggas can't hang (Can't hang)

Big shit poppin' bitch, and "Big" my first name

I'm a Westsider ('Sider), Detroit player ('Troit player)

Fuck around and I might bring back gators (Nigga, what?)

Every day, I leave the crib with no money (With no money)

And come back later with that motherfucking paper

'Finally Famous' Over Errythang—that's just how I feel, bitch

They tryna stop my shine, they yellin', "Hit the kill switch"

Wrong nigga to deal with, 'less you doing a deal with (Boi)

Grind hard (Hard), that's how I was built, bitch

Whoa there (Whoa there), whoa there (Whoa there), I'm who everybody know here

I come through in the club and get more money than promoters ('Moter)

Oh, that's your girl? (That's your girl?) I see her at my show there (Show there)

I be off in the hood—I bet you don't ever go there

Ayy, so slow there, boy, don't go there, boy, it's people you don't know there, boy

Young nigga that's addicted to the Polaroids (Flash)

And I gave these niggas more lines than corduroy

And my bitches be gorgeous, boy

Showtime—I hope you recording, boy, I'm out here (A lot)

[Verse 4: Boldy James & Asher Roth]

Let's re-up half of a brick and bring it back to the kitchen

See the crack as it's fizzing, then bring it back when it's finished

Jimbo put that on a dish and chisel it, bag it, and seal it

Then Boldy factor the digits to know the cash that I'm flippin'

Six gon' get stashed in the ceiling, six O's in traffic

I'm pitchin' this O; that one get split and get broke to halves

And then, this one his O, and that one is his, and this O I'm baggin'

And this one—this O the last one: the nigga Bo is a crack-a-matician (Concrete)

Rollin' the Ave' 'cause I'm gettin' dough on they slab

'Cause I'm getting over, they mad

I just grin and ball with my mag on my britches

Know I'll blast if you tempt him, bro, you will crash in your whip

With holes in your plaid 'cause you hit, goin' as fast as your engine

Go when you smash in the strip, smokin' a bag with yo' bitch

Then, choking, gasping for breath, holding, grabbin' your chest

From Boldy maggin' that TEC, unload it faster than Vicks

It's Concrete, the school crafted the sick, bones and bricks (Yeah, yo)

[Verse 5: Asher Roth]

I be frustrated with the way that shit's been aging

And I'm about to take a break and get away on a vacation, like

Maybe Malaysia, to escape through meditation

I'll just eat, pray, and wait for my day of revelation, or I'll—

Take peyote, roam the rivers of Nairobi

Change my name to "Navajo" and live alone and only grow weed

'Cause this Naomi-flowing show gets pretty lonely

Don't nobody ever know you, everybody call you "homie," ugh

Mo-ney, mo-ney, they'll be sure to treat you phony

As soon as you hit your low, they won't be picking up the phone, see

I move through calmly, show these fools that I am home

And when I'm on the microphone, all you wannabes can blow me, so

Take this boner to the dome, you little Bo Peeps

That may be inapprop-y but I'm certain-a-ly no sheep, see

I only lead in this game of entertainment

Roth and Big Sean, we on, 'Finally Famous'

[Verse 6: King Chip]

Yeah, now roll ten of 'em up

Fuck the rules, we Auntie Anne's pretzel-bending 'em up

Don't give a fuck, word to your daddy leather sandals

Either pay the light bill or light up them candles

Regular White Owl cigarillo, no flavors

Break that bitch down and peel off the first layer

Smooth, like a baby's ass, Mercedes pass

The ladies ask, "Can they be next?" 'cause I'm kickin' their favorite raps

Life is playin' '2K' and kickin' raps all day, by the lake

Smokin' tree 'till I collapse in broad-day

I'm surfing, "radical," "gnarly," "far out"

My stoner chicks gather 'round soon as I break the jar out

Ayy, baby girl, pass the blizz-ard

Your woman chose me, so I had to jizz her

Don't be sleeping or taking no cat naps

We leaders of the new school with these fat raps, nigga