How We Chill Pt. II

[Verse 1: Rhymefest]
Well, ayyo
What's up, J.U.I.C.E.? It's about time that we set it straight
And show these other cities how to represent and regulate
This is how we chill, putting pressure on the featherweights
That couldn't go for broke if they resided in a Section 8
I laugh at y’all that say my city's only basketball
With the hip hop that dates you back to the neanderthal, hey
And y’all niggas don't wanna spark me. I can hit
A rhythm and split 'em just from the drums of my heartbeat, yo
I can't deny I live and die for the streets of Chi’
But there's more than meets the eye than pimping hoes and getting high
You do-or-die, but you could live and do the same thing
My brain sings, I feel like a puddle that's headed mainstream
And when I get there, radio will give me more play
But then I’ll be shot and talk crime like Rappin' 4-Tay
You know my forte, and pretty soon, I'm headed your way
Like Malcolm X, clenching on my Glock through the doorway

[Verse 2: J.U.I.C.E.]
See, I
Decapitate these rappers in an instant, track 'em down
With persistence, my sniper fire hit that nigga from
A distance. J.U.I.C.E., he brought the armageddon. Fuck Visine
I’ll put the red in. Hold him steady 'cause I'm ready to behead 'em
Take me light? Don't make me fight. Fucking with Professor J.U.I.C.E.?
Damn right. I leave a shaky hand and shaky mics
Son, never test this brown brother ‘cause it's hopeless
And I'ma grow 'cause I was planted with the seeds of dopeness
I'll break your bones, bro, and send these rappers to the Jenny
Jones Show so you can let your boys back home know
That I'm the microphone pro, professional
Always lock the joint and stay on-point like a decimal, bro
You’re too slow to go, you need to slow your roll
I amputate your ankles, ain't no going toe-to-toe
And don't test the status, simply just the baddest
When I innovate, I hit a switch, rappers disintegrate
Plus these other brothers can't come with no rebuttal
They fly up in the air but get blown up like the Shuttle
‘Cause J.U.I.C.E. mack right, attract light like photosynthesis
Kid, you wack as hell, and I'ma put it in parenthesis
No pause or comma 'cause I'ma keep you fearing this
You got a question mark? I'm the nigga here, period

[Hook: Rhymefest and J.U.I.C.E.] (x4)
Dope it is?
I am. Can you rock? I can. You think
You’re dope? I do. This is “How We Chill Pt. II”

[Verse 3: Rhymefest]
Now I could
Bang a little rock, load the clips into the Glock
Go to New York and start busting off lyrical shots, yeah
And then head back over to Oakland, do a drive-by
Just to make niggas be like, “Cuz, he loc’ing”
No joking, then I gots to speed off with my grandma, all you
See is smoke and hear, “Hootie Hoo!” as I pass Atlanta
This is how we chill, so deal with it. If I was crack
You Marion Barry niggas would probably still hit it
‘Cause in the Wild Onions, you gotta keep coping
And scoping, and plus I'm into dreaming with my eyes open
‘Cause, nowadays, this shit be lethal. Forget being equal
All I see is all men are created evil
And circumstance gon’ hurt your chance to advance
Y’all ill, these niggas will kill for real for an ill glance
So now I wear bulletproof hats and steel pants
You knock my body down, but my spirit still stands
I'll never fall until I simmer all, toss you all out
From in this car, I'ma calm these brothers down like Demerol
Yo, you know the deal on how I feel when I flow for real
Rappers say they’re dope? They must have drunk a glass of GoldenSeal
Because there is no evidence, there's only hesitance
Bring on your fucking army, I'ma take out all your regiments

[Verse 4: J.U.I.C.E.]
I'm at
The UIC Pavilion, wearing MC J.U.I.C.E. medallions
Brazilian or Sicilian, rip apart your whole battalion
These playalistic niggas fall prey to J.U.I.C.E. the Infamous
Versace-wearing rappers always trying to play some pimps in this biz
These record labels sign the most unpresentable
Cliques that go platinum for grabbing on their genitals
And every single day, brothers is dying in my mix
But all they ever rap about is Alize and grabbing dicks
And you might say, “Who is J.U.I.C.E. to try to check somebody else?”
But it do get kind of boring always rapping ‘bout yourself
And your jewelry and your diamonds. You think that shit is rhyming
‘Cause billboards say you climbing? Every trend has its timing
I ain't saying no names, but why you biting his style?
I'll have y'all niggas laying in a casket with your Cristal
And all the record-buyers? Y’all be making music choices
So why y’all be believin all these playalistic voices?
It's all the same, the big willy wack, the unoriginal
Got the record public all believing y'all some criminals
Before them record deals, they was broke, and you can check it
'Cause true players don't be have time for making records
And no videos. They too busy hustling in the zone, and if
You got so much loot, put out your records on your own, and all
This East vs. West bullshit need to stop
Acting like some little shorties, ain't nobody getting props ‘cause if
You was, you wouldn't have to diss no other state
No other crew, no other clique to put some food up on your plate. I be like
Point blank: this whole fucking industry is wack
But these brothers from the 'Go gon’ bring that lyricism back
And a lot of y’all may not like the way I'm getting loose
So whoever wanna battle, y'all could bring it to the J.U.I.C.E
‘Cause I'm ready for any emcee trying to attack me
Rhymefest is on my side, and, yo, my peoples got my back, G

[Hook: Rhymefest and J.U.I.C.E.] (x4)
Dope it is?
I am. Can you rock? I can. You think
You’re dope? I do. This is “How We Chill Pt. II”