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Cover art for Zip That Chop That

Song

Zip That Chop That

Jay Rock, Black Hippy

From Hood Tales to the Cover of XXL, 2010, English

Lyrics

Pick up to six lines to make a card.

(Tha Biz—Tha Bizness)
Let 'em die
Dead
Black Hippy
We don't give a fuck
Hell nah, nigga
This conglomerate so cool, Rock, we could freeze L.A., nigga
Black Hippy
Move in
Kendrick Lamar
I tell 'em like this
Ring the alarm or wake to a bomb
You ain't a rapper, you Elton John, holding your john
I got a ton of croutons in the Louis Vuitton
That's big bread, the chickens are flying, flocks when I come
Paul and Masson, half-drunk, stuck in a poem
Light matches underwater while I'm bracing the storm
I'm cool and I'm calm, laid-back, smoking a farm
Socking the shit out of niggas 'til I'm breaking my arm
Up in my zone, two blunts, cup of Patrón
.45 on me, shoot you if you fuck with me wrong
No homo, pause, that's your life and it's going flatline
If you don't put your life in the song
I never drove a fast car, I almost ran over Tracy Chapman
She said, "Drive slow"; I said, "Fuck off"
Ab-Soul—what's up, y'all? Other than you're subpar
Above all? I'm a Heaven gate—above all, fucking great
And every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that, what's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we...
Cook that, chop that, what's that, that's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
The Black Hippys, the bag full, the bag empty
Spent it all at the car lot, then crash quickly
I'm trying to come with enough power to pass Fifty
I'm talking fifty bills—you niggas don't fit the bill
You niggas don't keep it real, you fake as Pamela's titties
I pound kitties, then hit the club with dogs with me
Tan Polos, no socks, chopped Dickies
Tan coupe, no top, bumping Biggie
Blowing sticky, before the group, been a hippy
Nifty-fifty, all blue, real Crippy
Big money, long stocks, ask Pippy
Mask on, one sock, I gets busy
I smoke Blacks, relax, and watch Walt Disney
Puff squares, pace in circles until I'm dizzy
Speaking of Disney, fantasies, I had many
I used to hate on Mickey Mouse 'cause he had Minnie
Anyway, every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that, what's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we...
Cook that, chop that, what's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!
Ahhh, napped through my final, made enough, richer than Lionel
Fucking bitches on my job, coming harder than rhino
Breaking their spinal, laid-back, bumping my vinyl
Navigation on the scopes, easy to find 'em...
... Find you and I'm right behind you, laid back, puffing a blunt
Gat on my lap, constantly talking shit; I'ma dump
Your homies acting charged up, they can still get jumped
Take your chain, ash the kush for all you punks...
... However you want, whenever you want, you all can get it
Contagious, it's mad syphilis, blazing, it's God-giftedness
Die over death sentences, flow hot, plus, the beat knock
Like Jay witnesses, tell 'em I killed the witnesses...
... Gifted as twenty Christmases, itching to blow
Like twenty bitches with mouths that need a dick in it, wow
I ran rap for half a mile, then got tired
Laid down and realized that I was lying (You fucking crazy, man!)
And every time we in the stu'
We cook that, chop that, what's that? That's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-1-0 shit, 3-2-3, bitch
Oww, nigga, welcome to the zoo, where we...
Cook that, chop that, what's that, that's crack
Yeah, homie, this is what we do
3-2-3 shit, 3-1-0, bitch!