Letras
Where the Fu Schnickens at, fool?
Chip Fu, nigga
La Smoove 'cause we ain't got nothing to prove
Yeah, yeah, uh-huh
Yeah, yeah
All right, come on
Shit's wack, uh-huh
And where the Fu Schnickens at?
It's Chip Fu
Yo, Ras Kass, thanks for the big ups
If you ever need me, brethren, call me, I'ma pick up, I'm here
I ain't run this race to take second place
Strive to be the best and still respect the greats
But ain't no one iller than me
Who you consider to be can get it too
And I ain't gotta name names, just take a selfie
Yeah, nigga, you
Money calling collect, send it through
I'm driven like ten to two
East Coast, West Coast, old school, new school
Black nigga, white boys
Ain't even in the conversation if you don't write, boy
Seems like overnight, boy
We was mixing Kool-Aid and Night Train
Back in the days, nigga called me Raisin' in the 9th grade
They wasn't playing Black music on MTV
Except Michael Jackson and Prince, that ain't street, no offense
Then The Box opened doors and hardcore got exposure
And regional rappers got the chance to be heard all over
Black Entertainment Television took hip hop over the top
Underground artists going mainstream, even pop
Thanks to Washington D.C., then it stopped
2000, November 3, when Bob Johnson sold BET
Viacom watered it down, gentrified the town
Took the messages out and simplified the sound
No more Tavis Smiley, they canceled Teen Summit
They phased out the bars and dumbed it down to the dumbest
Ugh, shit's wack
And where the Fu Schnickens at?
It's just me, I'm the last of a dying breed
And until my last breath, just keep your eye on me
For real
Somebody call Shaq
Does this now make you the greatest, are you now the GOAT?
It's Chip Fu, I'm setting levels like I did before
I ain't where none of y'all nigga at, I'm on a different floor
Meanwhile, the streets warring, the pre-postmortem
He bought retro Jordans, other nigga couldn't afford 'em
And Jordan ain't giving a fuck so I started rocking the foreigns
Balenciagas or Vans, so at least I'm fashion in Florence
At peace, stopping in Torrance, a beast, locking them horns
A beat and I could perform in a dingy dive bar or selling out at the forum
I speak with my cranium
Hard-headed, dip my dick in Vibranium (Wakanda Forever)
Y'all been hating for 20 years now, nigga, just give me my cheddar
'Cause I've been getting and giving nigga black-eyes after I got signed
Before Tim Reid sold me 'That Guy'
That's why, plus I fathered your style
But your brand more popular, I get it
Right now, you more famous and richer, I dig it
But money don't make the man, and I ain't one of these bitches
My name Ras Kass, I manhandle these hos
You in real life imitating scripted reality shows
Not here to amuse you, I'm here to confuse you
Never know, I might just be MF Doom, too
Bitch is basic, Lauren got me the LASIK
To see through the Matrix, I ain't saying it's racist
I'm saying it's culturally appropriated
I hear black music but I don't see no black faces
Yo, that shit wack, uh-huh
And where the Fu Schnickens at?
I'm right here if you ever need me
I'm just a phone call away, trust me bro, that's easy
All love
Yo, for real