Chiraq Vs Ny Lyrics - Montana Of 300

[Verse] 

They never thought it would happen this rappin' stuff 

Was facing cases because I got caught with gats and stuff 

My haters thought I wouldn't elevate from that trappin' stuff 

And fuck twelve they want me back in the back with cuffs 

God knows my needs that's why I never ask for much 

I work for mine I swear I never had good luck 

My past was rough, my moms was high my dad was drunk 

Start baggin' up, I used to feed my mattress bucks 

Rap god a.k.a. hip hop's asthma pump 

Don't pass I'm clutch I'm gladiator Maximus 

About my bills when I spit like I'm Daffy Duck 

Expose the truth then turn and tell your pastor, church 

They want beef until I give 'em what they askin' for 

They ratchet tucked Bruce Wayne the way we maskin' up 

We ride with straps you niggas better fasten up 

I keep the pump in my whip like I'm gassin' up 

That's big sticks when we slide and we don't pass the puck 

The only time they want smoke is when you pass the blunt 

We on your lawn with them choppas like your grass gettin' cut 

I blast, I bust, you die you just got whacked and touched 

Your bitch in heat 

She say she want me bad as fuck 

The head was good 

Deep throat like a giraffe and stuff 

She gagged and sucked 

Bitch damn near made me crash my truck 

The ass was pumped, I did my thing I smashed, I fucked 

And you ain't winning if you spendin' more than stackin' up 

If you ain't mastering the math of your cash, you'll flunk 

I'm FGE, them Titans scared to clash with us 

I'm in my bag bitch don't ever think I'm packin' up 

Way before the rappin' bitch I was trappin' I used to touch bands 

I got to that bag from the floor just like a dustpan 

How is there so much creativity up in one man? 

Giving kids food for their thoughts I feel like a lunch man 

Niggas spent their last on a pair of shoes with a jumpman 

Feeling like a mill when he walk, he must be a Bucks fan 

And I'm no longer stuffing pounds in the duffle, son 

I stay on you 'cause I care to see you smile and I love you 

If you don't add to the big picture you won't value the puzzle 

Please teach your kids that life is awesome 

Sometimes allow 'em to struggle 

And if they spend more than they stack 

Then they won't value the hustle 

If you can't nip shit in the bud and push then how you the muscle 

Huh? Boss shit, call up my hitters and tell 'em tell fam 

Hop out, put that strap to his head like he Quailman 

Replace the hammers used and then pay him after they nail fam 

What you know about killers comin' dressed as a mailman 

My homie told me I really don't think they ready, fam 

I bet he drop when I roll up on him just like the jelly, fam 

We cuttin' I put that on my blood just like a band-aid 

We comin' 'round that bitch blowing at you faster than fan blades 

See, I just wanna see every one of my mans paid 

Mama in the mansion relaxing, don't need a damn thing 

Drinkin' lemonade with her feet up under the damn shade 

Niggas didn't wanna believe me until them bands came 

Knowing when I go in I'm known to go on a rampage 

Madness written all over they faces like Macho Man shades 

It's like, ever since I got my bag right (woo!) 

All these bitches wanna act nice 

It's money over bitches I'm pimpin' 'em like a Cadillac 

Bitches know I'm lit yeah I got 'em drippin' like candle wax 

Thinkin' 'bout the top, reachin' for my belt like a ladder match 

He say he want smoke plus his bitch on my pipe, I had to crack 

Rap god, baby, my lyrics could cure cataracts 

Arsonal just said, niggas lucky that you don't battle rap 

The fake be flippin' sides for that money just like an acrobat 

The real ones gonna ride through them ups and downs 

Like a camel's back 

One life in God's house 

Ain't no second life where the attic at 

From the struggle I had to grind to get out my habitat 

Orange and green buds by the pound 

It's looking like Apple Jacks 

Four hundred forty-eight 

When I package that, clients back to back 

Matter of fact, only you pussy niggas get mad at facts 

I put that on my sons it ain't really nothin' to have you whacked 

If Kris Kross, he can get thirty up out they Daddy Mac 

That's thirty for you haters, I'm shooting tell 'em come hack-a-Shaq 

Pictures with my kids in my cribs ain't no need to caption that 

Ain't nothin' like the hugs from your cubs 

When they know they daddy back 

My daughter mother strapped, .22 in that Gucci fanny pack 

Plus I dropped a bag on her kicks, nigga that's hacky sack 

G-O-D my chauffeur he opened that damned door for us 

Labels ain't controllin' us, ballin' like no one's holdin' us 

Every line's potent that's why they come get they dope from us 

And this is not a brothel, I promise you ain't no hoe in us 

Big choppas, takin' off tops, that's can openers 

The bullets in my clip, yellin', pussy come get a load of us 

Teflon in my jacket, I'm Spawn with that ratchet 

Put pawns in a casket, who wants to get it crackin'? 

I'm a hundred like Wilt, tell your nigga he ain't built 

If he act rowdy I'ma pipe her, then that nigga gettin' killed 

Skrrt off up in traffic bitch I'm smooth like silk 

Left him wet and what came out that .40 cal wasn't milk 

Know your part, go home if you ain't goin' hard 

The coldest art that's ripping rappers' souls apart 

Came from the bottom I ain't going back like Rosa Parks 

These other rappers don't compare to me like Noah's Ark 

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