The Chopper Lyrics - What Goes Around - Statik Selektah

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 motherfucker, your momma is in to bondage 

I promise I bomb it, drunk with power, this Gin and Tonic 

Where I'm from niggas'll have you singing like Harry Connick 

So fake thug shit and that drug shit, homie, stop it 

I'm from where niggas get popped and hold that dope in the sockets 

This real shit 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 wishing we could be as happy as the Winslows 

The pain of my kinfolks in every pen stroke 

Fly, fly, fly, fly city 

And I'mma 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, shit, we beating it up 

Get robbed for bread cause niggas ain't eating enough 

In the club deep as the fuck every weekend heating 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 drowning by the conditions that we are surrounded by 

The shit that we hate is the shit that we bounded by 

See true beef is when somebody stop breathing 

Not the shit 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 

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Lyrically I cause a holocaust when bottles toss, it's Molotovs 

Mob hits, niggas is screaming "he shot the boss" 

While I'm drunk as hell laughing, stumbling out the court 

They dumping them by the park, that's something 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 

Blasting the lead away, cemetaries packing 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 piss on that whore's sofa 

Everybody's balling, 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, hitting 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, [?] 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 

Fuck religion, I go into your church and burn up the offerings 

Motherfuckers, so what you offering? 

I only talk money, my nigga, so what you talking? 

See one time so I hold my gun 

A drunk mind speaks a sober tongue so you supposed to run 

Exerminator with a hard drive of 

Plans to save the game, but never return the data 

I'm gone 

Photos