Curriculum Vitae by Kenny Diaz Lyrics
Kenny Diaz ft. A-Butta - “Curriculum Vitae”
[Emcee(s): A-Butta]
[Producer(s): Kenny Diaz]
[Verse 1: A-Butta]
Ayyo, I write rhymes daily, I’m hot like Halley’s Comet
And my niggas throw it up like vomit, and I
Smoke anything—I mean anything—from that
Dirty brown chocolate to the West Coast chronic. If you
Need it, I got. If I see, I cop it. Got so many
Avi’, they gave me the keys to the cockpit, pop off
Shots through your knocker, make you bleed through your boxers. See me
With vodka and ganja on a beach in Bahamas, laid-up
With a slo who be feeding me pasta like I’m
Tony from Sopranos, only for the cash flow
And she don’t like it there, only in her asshole
Raps so sick, bitch, blow that dick. (She’s)
(Swallowing). Here, hold that clip (of these)
(Hollow tips. We’re monsterous), beastly
Each week, we re-up, see? We’re them hustlers
Bitches want free weed and Dutches, but I
Keeps ‘em on their knees ‘til they’re needing crutches, clutch
The Hammer, screaming out, “U Can’t Touch This,” sell like
“Country Grammar,” so rambunctious. Fuck
Your mama and papa, bruh. We’re not cousins, uh-uh
[Hook: A-Butta]
Niggas think
Butta be fucking around ‘til I act like Black Moon
And start “Bucking ‘Em Down.” Shit, huh, we could drink
A couple of rounds and go a couple of rounds
Smoke a couple of pounds or smoke a couple of pounds
Then take that! I’ll put clowns under the ground, have their
Mothers wondering how their son isn’t found—fuck that
Spit thunderous sound. I ain’t fucking around
I ain’t fucking around. Nah, nigga
[Verse 2: A-Butta]
‘Cause, see, my
Curriculum vitae, man, simple and plain. I ain’t
Blow yet, I know niggas is feeling my pain. It’s
Aight though, I light hydro to the brain. Know I came
From squeezing in between people on the train, squeezing
Two more chicks inside a light-blue Range
Nice new chain for y’all to admire, spit
Hot shit. What you want? Lava or fire? Bitches scream
“Oh my God.” I’m not the messiah, just
A guy with a big cock and a Glock full of iron shit
Y’all niggas could see
I’m sitting on 22’s, sipping a 22
Gripping my .22 with a bitch that’s 22
[Hook: A-Butta]
Niggas think
Butta be fucking around ‘til I act like Black Moon
And start “Bucking ‘Em Down.” Shit, huh, we could drink
A couple of rounds and go a couple of rounds
Smoke a couple of pounds or smoke a couple of pounds
Then take that! I’ll put clowns under the ground, have their
Mothers wondering how their son isn’t found—fuck that
Spit thunderous sound. I ain’t fucking around
I ain’t fucking around. Nah, nigga
[Outro: A-Butta] (x2)
Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
And another one dies, another one dies
Another one bites the dust
[Emcee(s): A-Butta]
[Producer(s): Kenny Diaz]
[Verse 1: A-Butta]
Ayyo, I write rhymes daily, I’m hot like Halley’s Comet
And my niggas throw it up like vomit, and I
Smoke anything—I mean anything—from that
Dirty brown chocolate to the West Coast chronic. If you
Need it, I got. If I see, I cop it. Got so many
Avi’, they gave me the keys to the cockpit, pop off
Shots through your knocker, make you bleed through your boxers. See me
With vodka and ganja on a beach in Bahamas, laid-up
With a slo who be feeding me pasta like I’m
Tony from Sopranos, only for the cash flow
And she don’t like it there, only in her asshole
Raps so sick, bitch, blow that dick. (She’s)
(Swallowing). Here, hold that clip (of these)
(Hollow tips. We’re monsterous), beastly
Each week, we re-up, see? We’re them hustlers
Bitches want free weed and Dutches, but I
Keeps ‘em on their knees ‘til they’re needing crutches, clutch
The Hammer, screaming out, “U Can’t Touch This,” sell like
“Country Grammar,” so rambunctious. Fuck
Your mama and papa, bruh. We’re not cousins, uh-uh
[Hook: A-Butta]
Niggas think
Butta be fucking around ‘til I act like Black Moon
And start “Bucking ‘Em Down.” Shit, huh, we could drink
A couple of rounds and go a couple of rounds
Smoke a couple of pounds or smoke a couple of pounds
Then take that! I’ll put clowns under the ground, have their
Mothers wondering how their son isn’t found—fuck that
Spit thunderous sound. I ain’t fucking around
I ain’t fucking around. Nah, nigga
[Verse 2: A-Butta]
‘Cause, see, my
Curriculum vitae, man, simple and plain. I ain’t
Blow yet, I know niggas is feeling my pain. It’s
Aight though, I light hydro to the brain. Know I came
From squeezing in between people on the train, squeezing
Two more chicks inside a light-blue Range
Nice new chain for y’all to admire, spit
Hot shit. What you want? Lava or fire? Bitches scream
“Oh my God.” I’m not the messiah, just
A guy with a big cock and a Glock full of iron shit
Y’all niggas could see
I’m sitting on 22’s, sipping a 22
Gripping my .22 with a bitch that’s 22
[Hook: A-Butta]
Niggas think
Butta be fucking around ‘til I act like Black Moon
And start “Bucking ‘Em Down.” Shit, huh, we could drink
A couple of rounds and go a couple of rounds
Smoke a couple of pounds or smoke a couple of pounds
Then take that! I’ll put clowns under the ground, have their
Mothers wondering how their son isn’t found—fuck that
Spit thunderous sound. I ain’t fucking around
I ain’t fucking around. Nah, nigga
[Outro: A-Butta] (x2)
Another one bites the dust
Another one bites the dust
And another one dies, another one dies
Another one bites the dust