chill lyrics (ft. reek da villian & j-doe) – busta rhymes

[hook]
i tried to tell a n*gg* chill
call him david, put the mess in the mada copperfield
for real, n*gg*s know the drill
mommy on that molly while she poppin up a pill
for real, tell that b*tch to chill
for real, tell that b*tch to chill
for real, n*gg* better chill
and if they don’t, just line em up
it’s perfect timin for the kill

[verse 1]
i don’t care about the money that your man make
i hit a homerun, now i’m runnin through my fan base
up the green from a garden to a landscape
sounds be the only lingo cops will never translate
they pull up, i pull out that thing and pop it
i ain’t f*ckin with no d*cks, i’m on h*lla ring bob it
i’m no davie but them ladies say the boys way be crockett
i’m the plug in the street and you a motherf*ckin socket
had to chill for a while but i’m welcomed back
was low key, how i’m underneath the welcome mat
now the b*tches see me in the forbes
so if i give you my number, like a finny you should call
you should tell your man to chill cause you’re f*ckin with a dog
and he be firecracker flaming and you f*ckin with a ball
i got them crills on the street, got jahlil on the beat
only phantoms, ain’t no caddys when we roll out in them fleets

[hook]

[verse 2]
wrist on chill
neck on chill
hoes all up in my grill
i cop a feel then i tell that b*tch to chill
hop behind the wheel and get back to chasin that mill
ok, big black zonin, on sh*t pumpin
beef is like a car, to start it i push a b*tton
and it’s over when it’s over with
i don’t know if you noticed it
but i just got my weight up b*tch, i’m getting checks and bonuses
pull up in the covers with, yea i see you lookin
as you should, come and get this wood, yea that getting dough
g shot wrist, reebok kicks
my n*gg*s f*ck the place u, king kong sh*t
she back and forth on my b*lls, ping-pong b*tch
she playin house with my ding dong, i’m playin ding dong ditch
her bar is too ill, way too trill
if that’s yo girl actin up, tell that b*tch to chill
for real

[hook]
i tried to tell a n*gg* chill
call him david, put the mess in the mada copperfield
for real, n*gg*s know the drill
mommy on that molly while she poppin up a pill
for real, tell that b*tch to chill
for real, tell that b*tch to chill
for real, n*gg* better chill
and if they don’t, just line em up
it’s perfect timin for the kill

[verse 3]
yea, ya’ll know
when i come through and i lock it
so much bread i should attach a laundry basket to my pocket
you ain’t really knowin, ready for the lesson?
see me whippin a boeing, 7-47
see the wrist be glowin til i’m shinin like a misfit
spark with n*gg* cascade, dish washing liquid
bread up in the palasades, mansion into stash house
wilin in the club while b*tches dancing with they *ss out
mossberg military in case n*gg*s act out
on em like a click over traded n*gg*s blacked out
why oh why oh why n*gg*?
you don’t wanna try it
see my n*gg*s squeezing til they finger muzzle getting tired n*gg*
finish with the c*ke i watch it rattle through the waffa
like a kid cooked the c*ke up in a f*ckin pressure cooker
the i quickly count the profit, cop another castle key
cook until they want a n*gg* on their cooking channel
you know my style, you see the way i sip up
at 10 thousand a bottle, sh*t you know my n*gg*s grip up
i’m on that raise the throttle sh*t, you know i got the hulk
go ahead and f*ckin gobble b*tch, it’s simple like the pushup
rocket launcher swag b*tch, see how i’m propelling ya’ll
taking over everything, i’m tired of telling ya’ll
why you always talk, could give a f*ck what n*gg*s chat bout
keep applying the pressure until you n*gg*s tap out
now p*ss out

[hook]

/ ft reek da villian j doe busta rhymes lyrics