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MC Chris is dead and he ain't never coming back |
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You should have been nicer when you were blazin' up the track |
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No well wishers, just bitches talkin' trash, |
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'Cause the aftermath is saying that rap is whack |
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(MC Chris is dead!) |
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On arrival, watch his rivals revel the jealous |
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Relish the moment their opponent went sublevel |
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Six feet under, what a bummer, it's no wonder the waste |
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Could have been a contender, now maggots march on his face |
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MC's often in his coffin, lyin' down, lost in thought |
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Groupies gather at the grave and done throw posies on the pot |
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Haters hate off in the distance, telescoping with binoc's |
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Smoking basket after laughing, get their knickers in knots |
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They play, in the park, in the dark, where they spark a spliff |
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Raise it high in the sky and cry "This hit is for Chris" |
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Then they tell a tale of how he really was a pimp |
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Hands wanted to be on, just want to be on his dick |
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I'll wait to the day's end when the moon is high |
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And then I'll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I'll |
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Amass an army, and we'll harness a horde |
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And then we'll limp across the land until we stand at the shore |
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I'll wait to day's end when the moon is high |
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And then I'll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I'll |
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Amass an army, and we'll harness a horde |
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And then we'll limp across the land until we stand at the shore |
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MC Chris is dead and is dreadfully morbid |
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He forfeits, forever free for the poor kids |
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Once filled to the bonnet with demonic endorphins |
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All his power rings restrained, no more Mighty Morphin' |
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We couldn't close the lid, there'll be no bids on his toys |
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No will for the rumor mill, no bills to enjoy |
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He kept every penny 'cept the two on his eyes |
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Now the diggers at Denny's, gettin' cheese on his fries |
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As for the babies and their mama's, there'll be drama for days |
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Looks like he's got his likeness, now it's time to get paid |
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So many starvin' Marvin, guardin', claimin' MC's seed |
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But he's a seedless greed, makin' pace in the RIP |
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It's a croc in the pot, is fraught, of it be the mock death |
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He's got the awesomest posthumous box set |
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They're airbrushing MC, on plain white tee's |
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Another life lost to violence, silence if you please |
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I'll wait to the day's end when the moon is high |
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And then I'll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I'll |
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Amass an army, and we'll harness a horde |
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And then we'll limp across the land until we stand at the shore |
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I'll wait to day's end when the moon is high |
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And then I'll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I'll |
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Amass an army, and we'll harness a horde |
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And then we'll limp across the land until we stand at the shore |
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My name is MC Chris and yo I can't get laid |
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Now they lay me to rest, how am I gonna get paid? |
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These quarters are cramped and I'm crazy claustrophobic |
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Consider it noted, I feel belittled and bloated |
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I better bust out in a hurry, 'cause I ain't hating the road then |
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I can barely bust a move because my body is broken |
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But I'm covered in collections, though you can't take it with you |
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Someone pass me a tissue while they gnash on my tissue |
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Somebody prayed to Vishnu any deity will do |
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I claw at my satin ceiling, I've got nothing to lose |
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And through the dirt and the thick mud, I'll tunnel like dig dug |
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Or the underminer, my desire is the big buck |
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Can I convey the basement without wasting my words |
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Fossilization's what I'm facin' unless defacement occurs |
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So I rise to the occasion, there's no waitin' for worms |
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And please no zombie player haters |
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Man, what have we learned? |
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I'll wait to the day's end when the moon is high |
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And then I'll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I'll |
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Amass an army, and we'll harness a horde |
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And then we'll limp across the land until we stand at the shore |
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I'll wait to day's end when the moon is high |
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And then I'll rise with the tide with a lust for life, I'll |
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Amass an army, and we'll harness a horde |
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And then we'll limp across the land until we stand at the shore |
