"Chart Climbin'" as written by and J. Burks T. Gaither....
[Sauce Money]
MC rhymin..
.. uhh uhh
Uhh, uh uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh-uh
MC, MC, M-A-are-see-why
Uhh, uh..

MC rhymin, chart climbin
With the baguettes, Roley shinin
We smokin the best trees, I bet some skins on it
I got a SE, twenty inch rims on it
I got playaz who want to kill me but love to speak nigga
cause I got a freak every day of the week
They just fake friends, they hope the shit ends (fuck you)
They see the dough my click spend in the big Benz
They think it's sweet, now we rock cubans with diamonds in em
but if they sleep (what?) hell is where I'ma send em
I know it's beef cause I don't want to be rhymin wit em
They want to act like BITCHES, time to split em
What the deal Ma? Heard I was boss ha?
On the real, want to hear it from the Sauce ha?
You like the way I do it? I just gotta spit
I got flow doughs hoes and a lot of hits

Chorus: Sauce Money (repeat 4X)

MC rhymin, chart climbin
Together we talk the talk, forever we walk the walk

[Sauce Money]
In the trial my niggaz'll squeeze for the general
MP's holdin my heat, nigga run wild
I dial, executioners, go the extra mile
Nigga cock that, lose a screw when it pop black
Never provoke toast, niggaz get ghost most
You couldn't be my family, we never spoke close
You spit that "yo" shit, I say "nosotros"
Don't fuck with them dudes, think them niggaz homos
I'm talkin the bad bitches, you on some funny shit
You go for broke? I go for gettin money kid
I grab your homebase, now she give new honey head
To all you Donnie Brasco's, I'm Sonny Red
I split a weak nigga cheek quick, with one of those
Fuck a physique wrapped tighter than mummy clothes
Off looks alone probably get to touch em all light
but because of the flow, now I fuck em all night

Chorus

[Sauce Money]
You like dough baby? Work hard and you can get that
But in the meantime, let me hit that
Get you down on all fours, like a Kit-Kat
I'm tryin to split that, shouldn'ta did that
In and out with the quickness now what could make the brother stop?
Nothin, well maybe if the rubber pop
And even then that might not slow me down
I'm bout to go to town, want to come? Show me now
Singular most MC's bringin your toast
I run roughshod rip rap stars and roast
I don't brag or boast, I only speak in facts
And if I say you seven days, how weak/week is that?
Fatal to niggaz that's unable to ride wit me
You better decide who side or collide wit me
The very last rapper tragically he died swiftly
You been warned motherfuckers, now come and get me

Chorus

[Sauce Money]
MC..
Together we talk the talk, forever we walk the walk (4X)


Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings

"Chart Climbin'" as written by B. Jones A. Jackson

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics powered by LyricFind

Chart Climbin' song meanings
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