Correction Paroles Main Aim (Remix) par Chino XL

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Paroles

Nick Wiz ft. Cella Dwellas ft. Chino XL and Tony Atlas - “Main Aim (Remix)”

“Maintain. Few remain the game” - Sample from K-Solo on Redman ft. K-Solo - “It’s Like That (My Big Brother)”
“So I remain focused, hip hop’s the main aim” - Sample from K-Solo on Redman ft. K-Solo - “It’s Like That (My Big Brother)”

The lyric tarantula, Chino ‘bout to make an example of
One verse sh*tting on your whole label roster sampler
My first name: Chino. Last name: Went There
Leaving rappers curled up and dyed like Immature’s hair
Lyrical warfare when I’m spraying sh*t, my stylе
Like AIDS—half of y’all got it, just none of y’all are saying sh*t
I hatе and spit at devils that wanna possess Chi’
Jesus came in the vocal booth like “n***a, you the next me”
Test me, battle, and you can become a dead man
There’s a lot of fake Chinos like Craig Mack’s a fake Redman
But I’m above the surface of this rap circus, write more
Incredible verses on accident than you can on purpose
You a worthless waste of flesh like fat asses on a nun
I’m God’s b*st*rd son that blasts and thinks bloodbaths are fun
Hate you with a passion. White chicks faint like I’m Hanson
Historically known for bringing down the house like Samson
My damn tongue bursts. In the first verse is a bad curse that hurts
I’ll leave you passengers at church, inside a black hearse
Escaping the wrath of Jers’, it’s a sad Earth, my pen dirts, axe-
-murdering-type massacre occurs if we match words
Past blurs, I smack herbs, up n***as you all f**k I’ma
That’s how I’ma f**k all of you n***as up backwards
And I’ma be the sickest ‘til I’m dead, the type to watch
Halloween eight times just to laugh at LL’s head
My new album is Flo-Jo’s heart—watch it blow up. You ain’t
Just wack—you’re what wack wants to be when it grows up

Dwellas used to be
The last in the draft. Now we mastered the craft
On behalf of my staff, y’all crabs make me laugh
On the corner, spitting trash while we’re out, getting cash
New year, feel the wrath. Leave you split with a gash
The underground running rap, real skills coming back
Real heads loving that. Jail time? No fun in that
You my son in rap. Who want lyrical combat?
We could take it to the stage and beyond that. Y’all know
This rap sh*t? We’re controlling it. Wait for my solo sh*t
Heat, guns, and rhymes? Yeah, we’re holding it
And y’all can get laid to rest. Slay the best
When I’m p*ssy-drunk off the [?], no quest’

(x2)
“Maintain. Few remain the game” - Sample from K-Solo on Redman ft. K-Solo - “It’s Like That (My Big Brother)”
“So I remain focused, hip hop’s the main aim” - Sample from K-Solo on Redman ft. K-Solo - “It’s Like That (My Big Brother)”

Keep your mind
In focus. That n***a At’ spits lines ferocious
Roast cliques, spark ice similar to sculptures
You cats are hopeless, always claim your sh*t’s the dopest. Let’s
Switch guts with holsters. We’re on all your b*t*hes’ posters
With UG and P, n***as made a mock of me. Now they wanna
Flock to me ‘cause they heard I be buying property
Slow down the pace. Still, a four-pound goes around the waist
More rounds to waste, motherf**ker, more grounds to break
I’m in it for the glamour and glitz, no time for babbling chicks
I’m splattering cliques, rocking different patterns of kicks
So test me. Flows rapid just like a jet ski. Give me
Any Nick track, and watch me skate faster than Gretzky
Jealous ones envy. Like Fat Joe, soon to stack dough
Smack hoes, clap emcees that front at rap shows
as*h**es don’t know who they’re f**king with while Feds we be
Bucking quick while they’re backstage and sucking d**k
f**king prick!

Yo, yo, yo, yo!
Who wanna battle? I travel like bullets through gun barrels
Get grappled and tackled to the gravel. Wild like a jackal
My n***as clap you—it’s actual facts. Slap you with gats
Raps that penetrate and pop your air sacks. Vision like
Miramax when I’m writing, the rap titan who
Still loves Mike Tyson despite the ear-biting, mic-
-fighting on tracks, kid. Now who wanna do me?
You wind up in ER like George Clooney. Flows looney
My whole platoon be plagued with rap skills
Jewels and chicks in the Catskills, my stack ill
For real, kid. UG holds it down like I’m supposed ta
I swing my sh*t like Sammy Sosa. n***a, I’ll roast ya—what?!?

clip

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