Money Chasers by Chronic Lyrics
(Verse 1: Chronic)
See you ain't enforcing the laws you ignoring the warnings
Corrupting the core of rap you fucking money hoarding extorters
Deserving nothing but for me to be down the block on the corner
In a corvette honking the horn at four in the morning
Or leave gasoline poured on your lawn and then torch it
And while you assholes scream for a faucet or water ignore it
Throw my tape at you cause you ain't bought it straight at your head
Break your neck break your nose without breaking a sweat?
While your crew forsake you for dead, they'll even leave you bleeding
On the street, lungs weakened with the strength to breathe receding
And all because you blu-tacced a poster of 2Pac
In a du rag with a newsflash reading guess who's back
Styles are bitten, most writtens are ghost written
-Dead rappers look down thinking y'all tripping
-Take a listen, something something Cognac sipping
Dick licking, lipstick-ing, bitch hitting, wrist slitting
-The nicest is bout if what you buy got long prices
But it makes hip hop cost nine cents from the off license
There's kids that need guidance, but all they get is blindness
-And all you get is a headache when mom finds it
And sees some fuckery and gets them cross eyelids-
Hip hop-itis in your minds making you rock diamonds
Follow the trends, you ain't sell if you're not stylish
Ain't that what you want? to make the mob buy shit?
I'm here to save you all, let me call up my hot sidekick
Don't care if she's not psychic, she just has to want my dick
It's rap-man, na-na-na-na here to save the day
Make way I ain't got a theme tune I got a whole tape to play
(Chorus)
-This is for your own benefit
Rappers have forgotten bout delivering they messages
-Try'na switch it up for gold necklaces
Telling you anything making sure that they selling shit
(Verse 2: Chronic)
Money chasers, running after they papers
Tasteless styles and give it a couple years they'll be traceless
I'm anxious, why do you feel the need to disgrace us?
And if we call you out on it suddenly we are haters?
Here's what your fate is, two years on billboard
Then they get bored of you and here's your reward
Either someone sues you or you ending up in prison
But it makes no fucking difference cause nobody wants to hear them
And by this time you very quickly been replaced
By another ignoramus that they know won't innovate
You was selling millions, now you living by the interstate
And I bet you that chain around your neck that that is your fate
Cause you been a fake, you hear my freestyling
And it got you running twenty blocks like a police siren
-Go see if the DMV's hiring
Imagine going from mad stacks to stacking up recycling
You going pale what's the matter with you drake?
If that is your real name, can't you handle all the hate?
Cause I'm calling y'all out on your mistake
You fucking faggot feeding off other people like Dracula but gay
-Man, so many ghostwriters you'd be better off
Living in a haunted house, rattling a chain
You want to diss me back, who's the rapper you gon' pay?
On the real, was that really you on Degrassi or a fake?
(Bridge)
-Funny how it works out in the end of it
Meek Mill fucked you much worse than Nicki ever did
-But your fans ain't even gonna sweat it, they'll just say forget it
Don't worry about it, it's irrelevant
(Chorus 2x)
-This is for your own benefit
Rappers have forgotten bout delivering they messages
-Tryna switch it up for gold necklaces
Telling you anything making sure that they selling shit
Meek Mill using Twitter and shit...
See you ain't enforcing the laws you ignoring the warnings
Corrupting the core of rap you fucking money hoarding extorters
Deserving nothing but for me to be down the block on the corner
In a corvette honking the horn at four in the morning
Or leave gasoline poured on your lawn and then torch it
And while you assholes scream for a faucet or water ignore it
Throw my tape at you cause you ain't bought it straight at your head
Break your neck break your nose without breaking a sweat?
While your crew forsake you for dead, they'll even leave you bleeding
On the street, lungs weakened with the strength to breathe receding
And all because you blu-tacced a poster of 2Pac
In a du rag with a newsflash reading guess who's back
Styles are bitten, most writtens are ghost written
-Dead rappers look down thinking y'all tripping
-Take a listen, something something Cognac sipping
Dick licking, lipstick-ing, bitch hitting, wrist slitting
-The nicest is bout if what you buy got long prices
But it makes hip hop cost nine cents from the off license
There's kids that need guidance, but all they get is blindness
-And all you get is a headache when mom finds it
And sees some fuckery and gets them cross eyelids-
Hip hop-itis in your minds making you rock diamonds
Follow the trends, you ain't sell if you're not stylish
Ain't that what you want? to make the mob buy shit?
I'm here to save you all, let me call up my hot sidekick
Don't care if she's not psychic, she just has to want my dick
It's rap-man, na-na-na-na here to save the day
Make way I ain't got a theme tune I got a whole tape to play
(Chorus)
-This is for your own benefit
Rappers have forgotten bout delivering they messages
-Try'na switch it up for gold necklaces
Telling you anything making sure that they selling shit
(Verse 2: Chronic)
Money chasers, running after they papers
Tasteless styles and give it a couple years they'll be traceless
I'm anxious, why do you feel the need to disgrace us?
And if we call you out on it suddenly we are haters?
Here's what your fate is, two years on billboard
Then they get bored of you and here's your reward
Either someone sues you or you ending up in prison
But it makes no fucking difference cause nobody wants to hear them
And by this time you very quickly been replaced
By another ignoramus that they know won't innovate
You was selling millions, now you living by the interstate
And I bet you that chain around your neck that that is your fate
Cause you been a fake, you hear my freestyling
And it got you running twenty blocks like a police siren
-Go see if the DMV's hiring
Imagine going from mad stacks to stacking up recycling
You going pale what's the matter with you drake?
If that is your real name, can't you handle all the hate?
Cause I'm calling y'all out on your mistake
You fucking faggot feeding off other people like Dracula but gay
-Man, so many ghostwriters you'd be better off
Living in a haunted house, rattling a chain
You want to diss me back, who's the rapper you gon' pay?
On the real, was that really you on Degrassi or a fake?
(Bridge)
-Funny how it works out in the end of it
Meek Mill fucked you much worse than Nicki ever did
-But your fans ain't even gonna sweat it, they'll just say forget it
Don't worry about it, it's irrelevant
(Chorus 2x)
-This is for your own benefit
Rappers have forgotten bout delivering they messages
-Tryna switch it up for gold necklaces
Telling you anything making sure that they selling shit
Meek Mill using Twitter and shit...