The Chopper

The Chopper Lyrics

[Intro: Sample from “The Chopper” by The Notations]
He’s the bond for the soul real front page scoop only he knows what he might do
A cool dressin walker real hip talker my man Chopper, oh ho!

[Jon Conner]:
Yeah, I’m a take y’all there right! Uh!

[Verse One: 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**ker your momma is into bondage
I promise I bomb it, drunk with powerless Gin and Tonic
Where I’m from niggas’ll have you singing like Harry Connick
So fake thug sh*t and that drug sh*t homie stop it
I’m from where niggas get popped and hold that dope in the stockings
This real sh*t we deal with and ignorance
There is an illness no pill could heal nigga feel this
What can you tell us? We see death up out the window
Our friends go just as fast as the wind blows
We wishin we could be as happy as the Winslows
The pain of my kinfolks and every pen stroke
Fly, fly, fly, fly city
And I’m a 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*t we beatin it up
Get rock for bread cause niggas ain’t eatin enough
In the club deep as the f**k every weekend heatin it up
I could tell you what the news like
Niggas 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 niggas 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 drownin why the conditions that we are surrounded by
The sh*t that we hate is the sh*t that we bounded by
See true beef is when somebody stop breathin
Not the sh*t 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 niggas is screamin ‘he shot the boss’
While I’m drunk as hell laughing, stumbling out the court
They dumpin them by the park, that’s somethin 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
Blastin the lead away, cemetaries packin 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 p**s on that whore’s sofa
Everybody’s ballin, 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, hittin them up like Pac wrote this
These cockroaches scurry around when the lights off
I give ’em a thriller as soon as the mic’s on
Tyson, chill 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 death
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**k religion I go into your church and burn up the offerings
Huh! Motherf**kers, so what you offerin?
I only talk money my nigga, so what you talkin?
See one time so I hold my gun
A drunk mind speaks a sober tongue, so you supposed to run
Exterminator with a hard drive of
Plans to save the game but never return the data
I’m gone

[Outro: Sample from “The Chopper” by The Notations]
He’s the bond for the soul real front page scoop only he knows what he might do
A cool dressin walker real hip talker my man Chopper, oh ho!