[Chrous]

(Don't say a word) just let me get mines

(Don't say a word) just relax and recline

(Don't say a word) I'm the king of ill lines

(Don't say a word) and all my groupies and dimes

(Don't say a word) keep it quiet, yo, don't say a word, son

(Don't say a word) keep it quiet, yo, don't say a word, yo

(Don't say a word) keep it quiet, son, don't say a word, yo

(Don't say a word) keep it quiet, son



[Verse 1]

Yo, I'm rap's dirty little secret that they try to keep quiet

Till you dropped off your label and your A&R fired

But real niggas like "That's Chino, fuck around, he gonna burn ya"

For real, I'm like a dead body coming for its murderer

Shit, you seen Chino lately? You gotta see him

What you get to make an album, I get in one day's per diem

Go 'head and live careless

Five years from now you'll be explaining to your childrens what welfare is

I'm anxious to explain to my babies why Daddy famous

I keep womens mad 'cause I'm prettier than they is

An old man, when they ask what you did when you was young

You'll say you hated Chino XL and carried a real big gun

(No more starvin') I seen more evolution than Charles Darwin

Mental revolution with physical attributes of Tarzan

I fold more papers than origami, playing you like Stymie

I'm feeling like an autograph, so many dream of signing me

Vocab extensive and glossy

Expose a flow so expensive it could drain a small Latin country's economy

Commit a verbal sodomy with a dime on Sodom who shot at me(?)

Rappers claiming original, but sounding just like Nas to me

Odds are getting dropped my me, high like Pras in Haiti's

Rips fully laced like Madonna wardrobe in the '80s

Museum is where they place these on the mount

You can hate me now, but you'll write with your left hand like Steve Stoute

Shut your mouth



[Chorus]



[Verse 2]

Yo, hey Detroit! Show me some love

Straight out of Jersey to the Slum Village

I lyrically pillage at a high percentage

And you critics keep your mouths in it like you questioned by the feds

My talent barely recognized like Kravitz without his dreads

Sprinkle my ashes all over Big Lez after I die

'Cause Chino been the illest since I was juvenile, ha

I make cash money, click, go to .380, put you in torment

Trigger finger got the realest frequent flyer mileage on it

I'm coming in the club, keep women pulling on my clothes, froze

I'm the lyrical debt, everyone I C-E-Os/see-he-owes

The illest of flows they fear, 'cause no rapper could stop me

I'm putting their careers on life support like Jody Watley's

I'm tired of S-curls, guest appearances and wack tours

You should've named your last album "What The Fuck For?"

I hope you ain't spitting them tough writtens out your mouth

Stay quiet like you Shan when KRS was in the house

Don't say a word



[Chorus]



[Verse 3]

I been rhyming since 1986, when R&B wasn't feeling us

No rap on Soul Train, motherfuck Don Cornelius

Now they all loving us after all that we been through

You still think I shouldn't have no beef like a Hindu?

I listen and laugh at your CD with my crew

Sound like being a fake me is better than being a real you

(Yo, is that it?) Hell naw, nigga, got more to tell

I ain't feel your albums like I swam in Orajel

XL an artist you can't control

Have MCs changing release dates like they're prisoners denied parole

Yeah, I used to rock for props and not the dollar amounts

Climbed the ladder of success leaned against the wrong house

Fake criminals, you so unfortunate

Only bid you ever did was on my old Lexus after I auctioned it

See me in the street and, straight bitch up

Keeping they mouth closed like they lips stitched up

Don't say a word



[Chorus 2x]



Shhhh...