Chasing the Dragon Songtext - Wildcard

Chasing the Dragon - Wildcard

[verse 1: Wildcard]

Yeahh
Give me the rhythm, I'll get in the middle and spitin' it bitter and livin' it vivid and driven and kickin it spitin' it bitter and wicked and made it in riddles and ridicule split into critical given the shit I be spitin' it pitiful bitches get rid of you get analytical wicked and shit I be scribblin' visuals give it up. minute by minute diminishing gimmicks and cynical sinners definitive affinitive remedies in it to send to the menace inventive pen is and pullin' my pen and be springin' the venom and given this shit I begin in the end and a genuine minister diminish and timid I be given this shit I'm the wickedest sinner I'm comin' to, Fed up with beautiful people ignite this blaze, and when it be rhythm the wickedest dragon is coming to light your way, when I be shivin' I'm stickin' em' like OJ but I be that white knight that'll be twisted to the eye type that wives obey, wickedest pain to make the skies go gray, used to be having adventures on that crystal meth I call them Ice-copays, got a tongue to turn a dyke both ways, don't like it? oh I'm sorry I just must have thought it was white boy day, wildcard's the king of storms and all my flows'll through lightning, give me the rhythm I'll give em' the shit I be spitting it bitter like old Cyrus, I'll talk a bunch of shit and all of my boys'll co-sign it and I never stalked my ex's house, okay I drove by it but look, I was in the neighborhood and just stressed out and I feel like my whole crew is in prison call and collect now (an inmate at, a federal prison) yeah we know where the calls from bitch just hurry up and connect now

[Hook]
No ones taking me alive (no)
I'm in the getaway driving to the other side (to)
Find a better place (find)
Getting sick and tired (getting sick and tired)
Of just holding on
Holding on (holding on)
X2

[verse 2: Wildcard]

Yeahh
Yippee-ki-yay mother fucker Phil is Billy the Kid tell like Poets breaking out of prison just like Dillinger did, pillin' wigs makin' a killin' off villains and drillin' they chick too, women twisted in positions like Brazilian Jujitsu, sex with these pretty bitches from sex in the city, kissin' they necks and they clits are drippin' with aggressive and gritty spittin' and infecting the city with it I'm blessed with this witty wisdom, don't mess with this, kitties trippin' like exorcist spittin' vicious and the treacherous wicked witches of the west can just like my tip with the hexes and mysticism antiseptic come rippin' shit and it shreds, and these chicks are drippin, dick insurrection the chicks are jettin' for they life like they have witness protection, in different directions they split and they jettin' I'll twist and mix up these lessons, I'm Smith and I'm Wesson, I'll spit with aggression, and it's my gift and my testament I'm as sick as it gets and don't let me twist in your head then it's like your tripin' on mescaline and I be, making tracks about pain and interchange and I be, making tracks with punch-lines to entertain, and I be making tracks about MC's that bust lame more uncomfortable than trying to fuck in the back of this mustang (Damn it girl, uhh, baby you gotta... ohh, can you spread, I'm tryi, what?, put your leg over the thing a little bit? I, uh, I'm not that flexible, I'm pulling my fucking lumbar over here, oh why couldn't we get a hummer?)

[Hook]
No ones taking me alive (no)
I'm in the getaway driving to the other side (to)
Find a better place (find)
Getting sick and tired (getting sick and tired)
Of just holding on
Holding on (holding on)
X2

[verse 3: Wildcard]
Yeahh
Troubles coming up the horizon leaving you stuck in a crisis, with a beat duffle bag I'm stuffing with knives, half Spanish half luck of the Irish, bitch I'm cursed with alcoholism, pissed I'm stuck coughin' this nitrous, like why don't you fucks just rush into my fist while I'm clutching this ice pick, now your bloods what I'm paint-brushin' at night with, my ex girl told me I'd be angry and alone, I was like fuck you, now I'm thinking what if she's right shit, imma need another motherly white chick with them double D size tits and em' supple and for guzzling my kids. tell the hussy guzzle on my dick, she resists and I persist damn near got her in a fucking muai-thai clinch, feel like I'm another design glitch with the clutch of a vise grip leave them bludgeoned with brass knuckles and night sticks, still a little paranoid from all the drugs that I did, ait you ain't working for the government right bitch? feeling like an underground fight pit-bull who's running this rhyme shit and more nuts with every muzzle that I grip, tell these kids love all they life won't get another one like it trying to take my own fucking advice, shit


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