WHERE THE FU SCHNICKENS @?

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