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letra de doesn't end (4uitmayconcern) - charles hamilton

the morning number eight, let me introduce you to my best friends,
let me interview you.
hamilton and hedgehog, they’re matching, n-gg-r,
from the eight to the amount of ledge is what you have, my n-gg-r
you have met you, i’m so technical, i’m right at you, tab a naco,
of mc watchers, mc doctors, get me apart and test me, i’m deadly,
the red scene had to clean it’s act up,
the meanest rapper and i mean that rap stuff.
me with the fax, no machine, but i black,
kind of like that patch of green you have when you send something.
i am in something, perhaps deep sh-t, but i rap deep sh-t,
so with every bar i grab a p–per scooper,
and toss it at the future like i’m laughing, stupid nooker.

chop, chop, chuey, n-gg-r, i’m the illest,
chop, chop, chuey, n-gg-r, i’m the man,
chop, chop, chuey, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chop, chuey.
n-gg-r, sure, it doesn’t end, doesn’t end,
who the f-ck is him?
charles hamilton doesn’t end.

my hopes got stronger like george foreman,
i’m one of the four and my four is storming
unfortunately, mat has something prepared for your black -ss.
so traction has to be a full melody of casualty and fatality
actually, how many times could my out of bc rhyme skills come after me?
was i referring to what i say? i don’t give a f-ck, i do this sh-t all day.
starring at her bootylicious constantly, yet she’s never on top of me consciously.
but that’s not gonna stop, so therefore i have to be that hot from the top.
remove my bucket? f-ck it, let all unlock it, still in destiny, boy, i don’t give a f-ck.

that -ss, i’m ripping it, madonna with a strap-on,
i ain’t fall out of strattel and got back on,
now, what other topic can i black on?
oh, that’s it and oh, that’s it and charle doesn’t give a soul, that’s it.
in the all after there is, means i’m so after the best,
i might be scratching their neck with every scent pop
holly sh-t, that did not rock, but unfortunately, hips gotta hop,
get your -ss up, dance, or sit down, back up and have a blunt at electricon.
better off, better on, and i better fall in love with a chick who has a ball globe
to catch my fits when i throw ‘em.
but don’t notice ‘em, i’m in slow motion, and it

dinner time i grab me some lamb, in a matter of minutes you’ll be laughing, my man.
remember that white chick? wasn’t shirley temple, but surely, from the temple i make sh-t simple.
let me give you a riddle, why did the chicken?
that’s a question mark, she had to die on my niggen
n-gg-r, figure it out, ‘cause i’m digging for a reason i laugh at this b-tch, you dig it?
whoever the b-tch is i’m minding my business, scratch the sentence off like chickens
whoa, holly sh-t, i’m good, in every neighborhood feeling like sug’
uhm, not night, but every pimple treats broads not right
sure, but it died, i resurrected and had s-x with it and p-ssed it right back
to the next egg that exit the crib and said

- charles hamilton

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