Chorus II

[Intro: C-Rayz Walz]
You’re listening to W-A-L-Z. And Jack Frost is bringing it down on your ass. And you know it’s hard to make moves when Jack Frost is, is... bringing it down on your ass. Pause...

[Hook 1: C-Rayz Walz] (x4)
I love hits (Love, yes, I knew). I knew

[Verse 1: C-Rayz Walz]
I take charge of my post, sit on property and mules
The foundation principle is a continued truth
Walk my post in a manner always alert
So I don’t get fired or hurt, for what it’s worth
I report all violations of orders
I’m instructed to enforce across the border
If I needed water, dying of thirst and couldn’t breathe
I’m to quit my post only when properly released
Talk to no one, except in the line of duty
The illest cutie with the fattest booty looking groovy
Face saying, “Sex me! Sex me, sexy!”
Ain’t gonna be worth not getting that check next week
Directly or inadvertently watch for people purses
And spark conversations with no direction for certain
Allow no one to commit a nuisance on or near my post
And when my shift’s over, soldier, I’m ghost

[Hook 2: C-Rayz Walz] (x4)
Radio, check. Post 3, I need a visual
Five-by-five. I’ll be there, six mics

[Verse 2: C-Rayz Walz]
While you scream, “Why me?!?” My ninjas’ll be screaming, “Why, you!”
A Street Fighter—they be calling me “Ryu”
The Black Samurai slash your staff with a haiku
Spiteful, there’s a new voice saying, “They don’t like you”
When I speak rounds (Nah), I ain’t talking circles
The blueberry pounds have you clowns often purple
Pick your face up, tie your shirt, button your speakers
Tucking your cheeks make you sweeter than Easter, meaning:
I need to go under your durag, crush your weight with the heater
Leave shells on your face like you fell asleep on a beach
‘Cause I was knocking that thing when I heard a big knock at the door
Next thing you know, I’m popping a four
Rocking it raw. Art of war for my ninjas that starving and poor
Sleep today, wake up tomorrow
Talk fast, walk slow, pause in cash
Fools die for ass. Your spoiled pussy collides with math

[Bridge: C-Rayz Walz]
The time to my father’s eyes, chat with a burned tongue
Say, “I got a show in town,” just to make the girls come/cum
I’m over your head, you under my arms
I’ll piss in your face—you loving the taste, drinking it all
Lord, kid from East Bay, flicks for eBay
Chicks on E, they think they need me
Showers for April flowers, cowards
All I need is a DJ for D-Day

[Verse 3: C-Rayz Walz]
Full of beats and cuts, here’s my DJ’s rhyme
I’m The CW—Walz writes all the time
Every line’s a crime, every paragraph’s a case
In this trial attributed to life in the first place
In the first place, too much Donna Summer
Ghetto lifestyles wild, filled with drama, Hummers
Inhale the crack, contact. Casualties in stacks
For record contracts—that’s the knack
P'd off. Now there’s too much detours
To be absorbed and ignored by the playground clown
Homie, don’t play that. Fall back, spray rounds
Blaze tracks. Hey, that brother just got gunned down
I know this crack baby has a Franken run
This crack baby has no teeth, chewing gum
This crack baby has no moms, pops, or home
This crack baby has AIDS that’s full-blown
This crack baby... there’s too much crack babies
It’s seems like, under pressure, all we do is crack, baby
It amount to madness. Money is a cough I found
There’s a devil of a flu going around

[Hook 3: C-Rayz Walz] (x2)
Death keep testing me, life keep stressing me
You know the recipe: cook or be cooked
God blaze yellow pages, His son wrote the book
Get the point. That’s the hook, chorus