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Artist: Random Axe f/ Roc Marciano
Album:  Random Axe
Song:   Chewbacca
Typed by: firstlinerhyme@gmail.com

[Sean Price]
Chewbacca
Duece-duece, Papa now rocking your shoes proper
True shotta, nigga you noose nada
My three vs. your four, who crew's hotter
Random
Everybody on my team is winners
Everybody on your team beginners
Why you do that, rapper. Fuckiní new-jack rappers
Flinch when I walk by cause I do smack rappers
Sean the Barbarian, deadly dose of the dope shit, black tar heroin
The best out, bar-for-bar, Paw
His god given talent scream "Alhamdulillah"
You got no skills (skills) you got no talent (talent)
Your shit no frills and your bitch toss salad
Niggas rap albums sound like love letters
Pen in my hand like 'Damn fam. I can do much better.'

[Refrain]

[Guilty Simpson]
I write classics, you can't hack it
You know what it is, in the room with the floor covered in plastic
Passive, never got a street-cat pay so I'm active
Stay back, I keep that blade
'Hi, hater'
I'll carve a smile right next to your frown like "Laugh Now, Cry Later"
Potato on the barrel french-fry ten guys
For major violations, call it annihilation
Your tough talk, I don't get it
You wouldn't fight a ticket, so why recite a lyric
Especially when lyrics get a rifle at your fitted
I'm sure the buck so, tell Pac "What up though?"
My fours better be real
You wanna be tough. Alright, you'll forever be steel
Still, I get nicer yet out-ice ya'
And rhyme with the force of a Jedi cypher

[Refrain]

[Roc Marciano]
Marcberg, baby fire it off
Split your cabbage, bitch ass rappers spit garbage
Live lavish, Mac-10's under big jackets
Hit me a pass, flip that mattress
Remember your patterns, five stay dipping in traffic
Parle stiff in the cabin
With axes, dismember a faggot
Limbs is scattered and littered with maggots
Splashed with gas, we lit up matches
That's for actiní real tepid and passive
Ya'll asking to give out passes
I pull up and get out Astons
But, never without ratchets
Bustas feel our wrath and
Butlers will fill our glasses
Brothers ain't up in our bracket
Slugs from the gattlin' spin out rappin'
Flip the casket, lyrics is crafted
Hit them with the plastic and then I'll pass it

[Refrain]