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letra de amped on tranqs - chester p

amped on tranqs…
amped on tranqs…

the m-a chete
rap war, k!ll or be chopped to confetti
don yeti, spit flames on the big game
(“sh-t, now that brare’s sick!”) should be my nickname
dumb-heavy, two ton (?)
big names looking as bait as tooth fairies
magazines gunning me down like (?)
guys get crushed like buds of blueberry
too real, i’ll too ill to do telly
clothes supreme, my boots are still sh-llies
talk until they swim in the thames with steel wellies
still heavy, nightmares k!ll freddy
rest up under the ground with ned kelly
21 chicks from h-ll with lead bellies
rolled out, carrying pounds to shed pennies
drink wine, p-ss champagne and sweat henny
i rep heavy!
and my crew fed many
back in the old school days of fred perrys
red berets, buying weed from a dread (?)
nowadays it’s a place where i bled many
sit back and i watch ready
guns pop, hit the floor like a breaker from rock steady
drop heavy like vanessa feltz
on the block, i like feeling how the fake cats are never felt
press play and you best blaze
but i’m less paid than immigrant girls who work s-x trades
in a place that stress made
with industry snakes who wanna bully this game like they were nestlé
old kid on a new block
run in your gates and straight pull you out your sheets like klu klux
one touch and you’re spewing all out food up
out there feeling immune to being chewed up
no immunity’s found within the boon docks
hhc to braintax to boombox
take heed for payback
my crew pops off
(?) two .22 shots
and i do bury crews with the truth
got dudes with a mouth of dirt up in the booth
got dudes that will chew pops
dudes that will shoot drugs
from a rooftop
until they’re stopped by the blue watch
got plots where the youths cotch
a few shots in a fusebox outside sue’s block
when police do stop, they’re ain’t nothing they can do
but drive straight through to a new spot
got (?) with the food trying to do drops
with the big youts on the (?) that are too hot
got (?) in a feud with a few blocks
trying to do stops on the youts they -ssume shot

look, i run with a sick clan
who would step the mic and crush cats like you in 9-6, fam
people calling me quicksand
’cause rappers who step disappear and it’s more than myth, fam
never play with no b-tch, fam
i switch on a mic
i’m too tight like the government wristbands
you’re the son of a rich man, who run up his mouth
and got exposed to the world as a b-tch, fam
in the pressure to (?)
k!lling yourself, you’re in a cell doing one-slit-wrist fam
when your memory disbands i’ll leave you with your insides out
and use your skin like a wigwam
and i’m the meaning of yin-yang
the good and the bad, it’s all me
love’s free where the sins (?)
and i’m a king in this (?)
jealousy burns, but i rain more flames for your think tank
and you’re walking a thin plank
bring it to bars, you’ll get shanked
by sk!lls that k!ll (?)
blud, i’m repping a real fam
step to me twice, i’ll come along put your face in a wheel clamp
left hook and a steel hand
bringing your jaw, like a drum
getting plyed in a steel band
and it’s gutter for real, fam
me as a kid, i’d buy bread when i knew i had to steal jam
and me and farms’ll still slam
squiggling (?) to build beats like engineers build tanks
my gorilla’s a steel vamp
amped on tranqs, steel vamped, yeah
amped on tranqs

- chester p

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