The Cha Cha lyrics

[Intro]
Uh uh uh whoo whoo uh yeah uh yeah whoo
Uh uh yeah uh yeah whoo whoo uh uh
Got some motherf*ckin' Ciroc in the buildin'
And I got some motherf*ckin' Henny in the buildin' too
And I got my n*gga J Black in here too
And I got my n*gga Ave in here too
And I got my n*gga Azi in here too
My n*gga Kev in here too

[Verse 1] (Joyner Lucas, Jamal Black)
Say I'll do my thing just because I need to f*ck what you hoe n*ggas thinking?
Tryna make it all stat with the cash in a wrap and I'm f*ckin' your hoes on the weekend
Maybe pass in the back now I'm passing the black matter fact how you hoes wanna do this?
Super stupid, dark as chocolate, big pocket, Joyner Lucas
I'm a fool, let me get it all too
f*ck your girl in the pillow I'll drool
f*ck this world, when I f*ck your girl, Imma flex so hard when I f*ckin' curl
You feel it, haters stoppin', Trayvon Martin, but gun concealin'
I pop if you [?], man give you balls, you ain't feeling it, uh
Y'all n*ggas ain't cool, y'all n*ggas ain't hot, y'all n*ggas ain't nothing different
Y'all n*ggas ain't do the most [?], y'all n*ggas ain't even pimpin'
Probably got your b*tches dry as f*ck and I keep it drippin'
Ay ay, with your baby, you keep her sober, I keep her sippin'
Big difference, from b*tchin' pitchin', switchin' words to a vision and flippin' birds in the kitchen, they slick, conversing with women the frickin' nerve of you n*ggas
Tryna tell us that we ain't the greatest
We love to love and give the same to haters
Can't fade away, let's just play to play this
I'm good, these n*ggas just mad 'coz me and my n*ggas got hoes on speed dial
So they hittin' they phone and they don't pick up and they hang once more with the redial
Leased out when I pee now
Probably f*ck dirty b*tches and you when I'm senile
Future's what I see now, take a puff of the blunt if you really wanna see how
Rappers, gangstas, killers, smokers, bunch of n*ggas with feelings
Models, hoes, and strippers, hookers, bunch of b*tches with children
What you think is appealing me I be fighting the feeling
Just livin' life in the ceilin', ain't gotta like it but feel it
[Chorus]
Get you, get you, ya ya
The killers on the corner
That hit you with the chopper
Then make you do the cha cha
Make you do the cha cha
Then make you do the cha cha
The killers on the corner
They make you do the cha cha
Get you, get you, ya ya
The killers on the corner
That hit you with the chopper
Then make you do the cha cha
Make you do the cha cha
Then make you do the cha cha
Then hit you with the chopper
They make you do the cha cha

[Verse 2] (Joyner Lucas, Jamal Black)
And I know these n*ggas just mad 'coz me and J Black got hoes on speed dial
Better ride on out, cut your eyeballs out until you look at me now
And I spit so hard you can dive inside my drool, go swimming and float
By the stop sign too with a woman and hoes on the outside too
I'm hot times 2 times 6 times 7, eight breaks inside my crib when I tie my shoe
Gotta hide my sh*t, when I ride by you, finna pop my sh*t, better stop that sh*t you know better
If I ain't got it I get it, go get it, you got it, I'm a goddamn go-getter
If you knew better you'd do better bet I'm better than you n*ggas don't know better
How the hell you feelin'? I'm feelin' all great, I'm feelin' like winnin', I'm feelin' on free like dinner in prison, she feelin' on me, I'm feelin' like sinnin' now
I ain't pop no molly, ain't pop no pills, ain't pop no guns, I'm coolin'
She ain't pop no booty, ain't pop no pus*y, she swallowed my di*k, she droolin'
Rappers, gangstas, killers, smokers, bunch of n*ggas with feelings
Models, hoes, and strippers, hookers, bunch of b*tches with children
Can't pay my rent, never paid more sense, Imma rob motherf*ckers
I catch you chillin' with the wrong motherf*ckers
Explode your crib put a bomb in the oven
With a match in the wick in the back of the truck when you catch your sh*t, I be laughing or something
While I'm walking on trains in the back of the tunnel
On the ground, escape [?]
And grab me a gun just blast me a nun
Don't pass me the blunt, just pass me the lunch
I eat that plate and I need that cake
When I see that bank Imma need that safe
Imma need that cave, when I see that Jake, Imma squeeze that thing
When you see that flame, you gon' need that cane, Imma leave that pain
Imma eat that brain, I don't need champagne, I don't eat pancakes
Plus herbal herbs, y'all get on my nerves, don't sh*t on my words, don't spit on my verse
I spit in your face, I'll p*ss in your grave, y'all n*ggas is birds, my sh*t is absurd
[Chorus]
Get you, get you, ya ya
The killers on the corner
That hit you with the chopper
Then make you do the cha cha
Make you do the cha cha
Then make you do the cha cha
The killers on the corner
They make you do the cha cha
Get you, get you, ya ya
The killers on the corner
That hit you with the chopper
Then make you do the cha cha
Make you do the cha cha
Then make you do the cha cha
Then hit you with the chopper
They make you do the cha cha