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mr. chief - other side lyrics
[hook]
how long, how long will i slide?
separate my side
don’t believe it’s
[verse 1: mr. chief]
beats at will
we over here
the past is just that cause i’m moving on past it
never know, it could be me in that suit in a casket
i pray to wake to the sun, thank the moon as it p-sses
as long as there’s breath in my lungs and food in my cabinets
it’s hard to believe you see them preach but don’t practice
all you see is pain in the streets weaving through traffic
see we claim to be free, but they bleed us in taxes
plus the tv is force-feeding the m-sses
with fear and grief from the seed to the casket
it’s clear to see even behind these gl-sses
that the rich getting richer sitting on their -sses
my percent hitting liquor stores, hitting the man’itz
little kids, smoking cigs, popping scrips of the xanax
so in debt, eighty grand what they did up on campus
9 to 5 ain’t getting me, but i need cash advances
give a twenty to the stripper on my lap for dancing
-ss backwards
[hook]
[verse 2: knox money]
yeah, buddy
real sh-t
my job ain’t worth keeping, i ain’t been sleeping
boss man tripping i ain’t trying to work weekends
and my chick bugging cause we never spend time
try to make her understand, “baby i got to grind”
i was born and raised ray by a michigan made
i never let another state take michigan plates
it ain’t lovely; we don’t need it to be
we the strongest type of people so we need to achieve
we the ones who keep it going so we need to believe
never once have i ever thought i needed to leave
whether mic in my hand or not, we are a team
not no rap sh-t either, i’m talking as human beings
i don’t give a d-mn about acceptance or rotation
you will never catch me busting a dougie or stanky leggin’
i be in the bas-m-nt blunt in hand blazing
trying to ease my mind, i got hope that we can make it
come on
[hook]
[verse 3: beedie]
ay, i feel you chief
it’s beedie
pittsburgh
uh, they know the routine, move on the scene rapidly
with how long i been gone i see it happening
they taking notes while i move like they be mapping me
they try to see the flows on my phone to read the masterpiece
i hit up mr. chief for that master feast
it’s the last supper for these other motherf-ckers now
got the bouncing off the walls like they bugging out
but i’m on top of the weather, i stay above the clouds
breeze through with the sour diesel
red hot like the spiciest jalapeños
high top nikes, low cut adidas
i spent my whole paycheck to be fresh, jesus
how i’m going to get by without selling trees-es?
forty dollars an hour for studio, no visas
so when we make it to the other side we can come alive
we ain’t worried about a plate to feed us
[hook]
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