My brother Dizz made this
What’s hatnin’? (We back)
Uh, uh, it’s so classic right now, you know I’m sayin’?
Let me shout out the queens Rah Digga and Lyric Jones, what’s hatnin’?
Uh, uh, uh, uh (It’s going down)
It’s week nine, we made it all the way to week nine, haha
Ain’t no smoke, niggas wanted that Tory Lanez smoke, that ain’t smoke
Bandwagon smoke, I want direct smoke, you feel me?

Yo, it’s almost 2020, is your vision clear?
I’m flippin’ homophones when you listen here
I’m standin’ in the booth to paint the picture clear
I’m revvin’ up the motor with the engineer
Dizz hittin’ homers with the music flips
If you sell your soul, are you truly rich?
“Crooked sold his soul,” uhm, excuse me bitch?
I just lit a cigar on my Gucci kicks
Set them shits on fire, fuck them boujee pricks
Ain’t gotta play a role, fuck them movie scripts
Ain’t even hit the rail, homie’s movin’ bricks
All my friends are dead or grindin’, loadin’ little Uzi clips
Click, I’m out here hittin’ direct targets
Maroon Dodger hat on the red carpet
Spark up a cigar on my live, that’s Crook’s Corner
Crook’s still a coroner, born in the west market
Gave the county jail more time than I plan to share it
I could do more behind these bars than I can in there
Said I never had a prayer, I picture God on his gigantic chair sendin’ me lyrics to make the planet care
Holy Ghost Writer, only Jehovah flow tighter
My flow is so cold you zip your overcoat right up
Soak my dough right up, you won’t overdose either
I’m so west coast, we made this song with low riders
Yo, wake up in the morning, tell yourself you’re great
‘Cause your subconscious and conscious in a separate state
You gotta fuse ’em together as you meditate
Put the needle to the vinyl, set the record straight
Then create the best shit that you could ever make
Top floor mentality, time to elevate
I’m gettin’ better with time, I resonate
With wordplay I never wait for birthdays to get hella cake
I educate and entertain at the same time
I’m Chris Parker, I spit it for spliff sparkers, no gettin’ at this author
My image is pitch dark, but I shine in my résumé
It’s thicker than Mrs. Parker, still ballin’ like Vince Carter
Not worried about shit starters, a master in the mixed art of sparrin’ with bars, nigga I hit harder
How did a kid with no father get further?
My discography is bigger than just slaughter (Nigga)
Yeah, I got a message for the young guns
Nothing’s more valuable than your loved ones
Don’t let your soul escape when the funds come
Just let the kick and the snare solve ya conundrums
It’s cool to kick it with squares, fuck all them dum dums
‘Cause death in the hood, that’s what we run from
I got a couple of jewels, if you want some
I’m someone addin’ value to the sum, one

Yeah (Yeah)
The Weeklys (The Weeklys)
We still prayin’ for Jessie or what? (Haha) Haha
Yo, Mayweather still need to change clothes or naht? (Haha)
Let me shout the queens again, man
I’ll Camille, Snow Tha Product, you know?
3D Na’Tee, Rapsody
Gifted Gab, Blimes, too many to name
The OGs too
Yo-Yo, Lady of Rage, [?]
And of course Mrs. Lauryn Hill
Queens, I see y’all next week, man