Twista - Art & Life (Chi-Roc) Lyrics

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[Intro: Young Chris] 
Yeah.. 
Young Chris, M-eez, my nigga Free-Wheez 
The boy Twista 
Holla 

My life on the track (Okay) 
Up and comin' 
State Prop Chain gang (That's right) 
Get low (Get low) 

It's the Roc in the building nigga 
(Holla...Yeah) 
It's the motherfuckin' Roc bitch, who hotter than us? 
(Okay, okay) 

[Young Chris] 
Ayo..ever since a young buck, I been on the come up 
Known to dish the raw, dish the law if they come up 
And cheddar 'till the sun up.. 
If there's a ransom and the law get involved, then we never get it summed up 
Never put ya gun up, if ya come round me 
I go to war wit' niggaz 'round the corner from 'round me 
You could front 'round me, but I read through that 
Wit' the mili' and I ain't talkin' 'bout no Segal mac 
Niggaz see shoot back, we can see to that 
Hit yo front letters see through back, bring yo peoples back 
And I used to grind out on my friend's spot 
'til he's mom wanted my Tim-bots 
Now my paint got me discounts 
Or trans-quo all around the world, like I was signed to Pimp-dot 
And if it's ten targets and I got ten shots 
I'm tryin' to leave at least nine out of them ten shot.. 

[Memphis Bleek] 
I got my mind on my money, money on my mind 
But some say its a gift, I don't write but I rhyme 
I, complete songs with just one try 
Tell 'em it's no lie, I beef all my life...dogg 
I never think, it's already there 
I find ways to say it, so you motherfuckers hear it 
And when you hear it you feel it, you know its real so 
This is how I live it, how it's pictured for real...nigga 
I'm shittin' for real 
Diamonds against wood, underground king for real 
Big crib when I lay, yeah I'm livin' for real 
Trust me the guns come off the shelf whenever shit'll get real 
Automatics and extended clips, that's what I'm hittin' wit' 
Dummies in the black rhinoes 
Yeah, they be killin' shit 
Masked up kidnap shit, that's how my niggaz get 
Chi-town, NYC, that's how my niggaz get.. 

[Freeway] 
Yes, just picture me rollin' 
The smith and wesson'll stay goin' put a hole in yo chest 
It's just, another hustle paper gettin' made and fold 
You mad, cuz street niggaz finally made it 
I swoop five, he know the ride, heavily loaded 
Deliver pies like cake, they go straight through yo payment...yup! 
Chump...you don't really wanna war 
With the State Prop clique, if ya clique shot us, squad up 
S-P game so damn tough, the 4 4 in the 5th tucked ya'll can't hang 
Transporter turned rapper, get a camcorder film my life 
Still acclompished, tryin' to fill they cups 
The rap version of Mandela, call my bluff 
We still the street dwellers, feel my pain (my pain) 
I spit a verse and split a clip in the rain 
A fool-proof when the full force open you up (what!) 

[Twista] 
Twista will rock you, you don't want the thug apostle to pop you 
Hostile when I drop you, turnin' everything colossal to fossiles 
I speak street gospel, all they life I spit words and paint portraits 
For real niggaz that hold down they fortress and serve off of porches 
Hit 'em in the body wit' the powerful forces, that'll end all your doubt 
Make you clean up your house, bag up an ounce, hit the dance floor and bounce 
We blessed wit' the talent, fuck wit this clique, it ain't gon' be easy 
'Cause you fuckin' wit' Twist if you fuck wit Chris, Bleek and Free-wheezy 
So speak and breath easy... Or the scutches my future in 3D 
I like wars, I'm from a city full of Vice Lords, and GD's 
Breeds and Souls, 2-6's, Kings, BD's and Stones 
Spanish cobras and all the true soldiers, survive and I'm gone! 
Watch me spit if for the killers and hustler's, flippin' all the pounds and bricks 
Hate on me I'ma bust at you hoes, and I put eleven down wit' a clip 
Niggaz servin' fiftys and hundreds, when I see you and I'm on yo tip 
Twista and this East-Coast regime, it's that chi-roc shit

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lyrics submitted by Caitlin
lyrics corrected by Sean on 17-10-2004