Lyrics Cinci (Freeverse) - Chris Ash

It's Chris and I'm slickest in the city now
Get this, Yeah, Yeah my women pretty, How
Intricate on livid shit
You're ignorant to getting this
Cause little Chris is bigger than most of these rappers into this
Picture this, Nickelback, Photograph
Smoke a nickel bag to myself then put the roller back
Hold her back
Cause she's running for me
Got a Kevlar vest cause you know a hater gunning for me
Can't touch this cause a hitter way too cunning for him
You ignore him, I ignore him
I implore him to quit it
To get it, No limits on the wicked shit that I did bitch
Sip Monster, Smoke ganja
Marijuana
For the mic rocker
Vodka
In my cup
Add some Sprite and lemon, Mix it up
Fix it up like my hitter Bob the Builder
Realer of the artists departed
Raleigh, I might be
Inches out of psyche
Rock Nikes or Vans
But I'll never drive that in a mini
Call me PowerPoint with the way I've been presenting
Never claimed cool, I spit ice cold
Running for the medal and I bolt like gold
And baby if you're listening then you know I love ya
BAE, Ain't another bitch above ya
And if you're not
Well, I don't know
Maybe you should be backstage at my show
Let's see, Bout a minute twenty four
That means I've got two twenty three more
Double up on Jordan as I get it on the floor
Get it on the court or pick a door, I'd say pick more
But only one's safe, The others have Printz, Neil and CJ
Replay the shit, You didn't understand
Fuck with me then you're a really silly man
Death wish, Death Note, Let me write you down
Right next to the spiders and the motherfucking clowns
I run Cinci, Yeah you know that's a fact
Like the Flying Pig Marathon, Homie look at that
Scribble in my notebook like I'm doodling in class
Stand up and this bitch'll start oogling at my ass
My name fucking sucks cause when you're Googling my ass
A college coach comes up, It's not cool that I'm in last
Spit it on feet first, Where's my motherfucking features
And the creatures of the night scared to bite me cause I'm ill
Give a zombie gingervitis then I go and pop a pill
Miley got me sweating, Not the molly cause she's hot
Just let her grow her hair back and quit being a thot
A lot to this
A lot to spit
A botanist
A lot to this
The way I'm going, Way I'm going, Way I'm fooling around on a song
Hit her wrong, Get her wrong, Get her wrong
Didgeridoo, Kick it with you, Kid who is you

Yeah, I have grammar, Don't apply to poetry
No, I'm not retarded, Whip it out and blow a tree
Get drunk, She pet the trunk, That's usually how it go
Elephant brpt, Then I squirt like go
Nope
Stop
Fucking octagon
Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, Dress like Spider-Man at Comic-Con
Shooting webs like Chris
Shout out to Webster
Can't get it like him
Pain for pleasure
Edgar Allan Poe shit
Deadly when I flow this
Muhammad Ali
Like a bee when I float bitch
Bout a minute left as I'm running down the clock
Licking on my lolly, Yeah, That's slang for my cock
Bach, I'm classical
So fantastical
Suck a testicle
Rock a festival
I'm a crisis like [redacted] threatens to be
Haven't hit me yet, Are you messing with me
Can I get in trouble for rapping that line
I guess I'll find out in a matter of time
Killing everybody
Jack the Ripper, Chug a Miller
Light vanilla kush up
Push up
Upper body, What Bougatti, What Audi
La-di-da-di, That body be rocking and got me all popping around
On the ground with the sound