Karate Chop – Future ft. Casino

You know, This just some real ni*** shit, a real ni*** story
You know what I’m saying?

Slang a bunch of narcotics
Pull up in the new ‘rrari
Livin’ like John Gotti
Choppin’ bricks like karate
Drink a bunch of codeine
Serve it to the dope fiends
Blowin’ money, stay clean
Michael Jackson, Billie Jean

Got a Panamera round a young ni*** neck
Got a young bitch pulling up in a ‘Vette
Smoke a lot of kush & I have a lot of sex
Had to beat the grind up, ran up my check
Picture ni*** getting money, ni*** get back (back)
Roll a blunt of chronic, ni*** sell a lot of crack (crack)
You can hit a ni*** line, order what you want
I can whoop a Maserati, pulling up a donk (donk)
50,000 on yo watch, young ni*** splurge (splurge)
Pop a ace of spade bottle, sip a lot of syrup (syrup)
Keep a young ni*** workin’ that’ll bust a k (k)
I’mma take a phone call, hustle everyday (everyday)

Slang a bunch of narcotics (then what)
Pull up in that new rarri (yea)
Living like John Gotti (the mob)
Chopping bricks like karate (chwaaa) (chwaaa)
Drink a bunch of codeine (drank)
Serving to the dope fiends (they smokers)
Blowing money, stay clean (free bands)
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean

Whipping up a cake, just to go and snatch a spider (spider)
Young ni*** play with ki’s, (ki’s) like a type writer
Al Capone, John Gotti was a ni*** idol
I was never snitching, I can put it on the Bible
In a 4 door Bimmer, driving with a rifle
Nigga where you at, (at) ni*** we go pull up on ya
Young Bitch looking like Janet in the 80’s (80’s)
We was grinding up from two and a baby (oh)
Got the girl dripping wet like a jerry curl (curl)
Got a styrofoam cup and its full of syrup
Send it over from New Mexico & Let me Work (lets work)
I can get 36 for a clean shirt (shirt)

Slang a bunch of narcotics (then what)
Pull up in that new rarri (yea)
Living like John Gotti (the mob)
Chopping bricks like karate (chwaaa) (chwaaa)
Drink a bunch of codeine (drank)
Serving to the dope fiends (they smokers) (yeah)
Blowing money, stay clean (free bands)
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean (jean) (jean)
Who bad

Pop a lot of pain pills (pills)
Bout to put rims on my skateboard wheels (wheels)
Yeah…
Beat that pu*** up like Emmett Till
Yeah…
Two cell phones ringin’ at the same time (same time)
That’s your ho, (ho ho) callin’ from two different phones (different phones)
Tell that bitch ‘leave me the f*** alone!’ (fuck alone!)
See, you f*** her wrong, (fuck her wrong) and I f*** her long (fuck her long)
I got a love-hate relationship with Molly (Molly)
I’d rather pop an ollie, (ollie) and my dick is a trolly
Boy, I’ll bury you like Halle (Halle)
And these hoes say I’m blind
Cause I don’t see nothin’ wrong with a little bump and grind (bump and grind)
Man I just received a package (package)
Them other niggas taxin’ (taxin’)
And my pockets so fat, (fat) I’m startin’ to feel contractions
And my cousin went to jail for them chickens
And he already home and that ni*** must be snitchin’
Cut him off like karate! (like karate!)

Pull up, serve you in my Rari’
Money like Im Frank Matthews
Killers around me like I’m Gotti
If I tricked you, know Im sorry
I be fresh don’t need no stylist
I be geeking on them mollies
Sell remix dont sell no cleans
My hand like a triple beam
I got workers like machine
All I do is sell dreams
Half my niggas serve fiends
I get up and then I lean

Slang a bunch of narcotics (then what)
Pull up in that new rarri (yea)
Living like John Gotti (the mob)
Chopping bricks like karate (chwaaa)
Drink a bunch of codeine (drank)
Serving to the dope fiends (they smokers)
Blowing money, stay clean (free bands)
Michael Jackson, Billy Jean
Who bad, who bad, who bad