The song lyrics were written by the band Van Halen, as they were asked to write a song for the 1979 movie "Over the Edge" starring Matt Dillon. The movie (and the lyrics, although more obliquely) are about bored, rebellious youth with nothing better to do than get into trouble. If you see the movie, these lyrics will make more sense. It's a great movie if you grew up in the 70s/80s you'll definitely remember some of these characters from your own life. Fun fact, after writing the song, Van Halen decided not to let the movie use it.
I'ma let you hear the other one after I do this
I'ma let you hear the one, you know the 6's and all that old shit
That we don't fuck around shit
I like this shit, man
Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked, okay, I'm clockin' cheese
Trap jump off the hinges, in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
Live a hustler, probably die a gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game, and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain't no sleep tonight, bitch, we out here chasin' paper
Hate to fall in with a TEC-9, no bandana, no gloves on
Long kiss goodnight, my nigga, but we ain't makin' no love song
This bullshit you sold me got Inisotol, no soda on it
I straight dropped it, lost 20 grams, like what the fuck is you smokin', homie?
Red Camaro, white rally stripes, gon' probably be on TV
Move wrong while the tool on, I'll put your ass on Street Beat
Repeat, you see me, I'm a repeat offender
Park the whip, lay under houses, hear you move 'round with the stethoscope
Arrested for a little vestiges, teach these pussy niggas 'bout stretchin' coke
Bend the bend with the machine gun like, "Say hello to my little friend"
Chick I met at Texaco, down here for school, not visitin'
Say it's about to get interestin', bitch say she from Michigan
Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked, okay, I'm clockin' cheese
Trap jump off the hinges, in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
Live a hustler, probably die a gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game, and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain't no sleep tonight, bitch, we out here chasin' paper
Shipment just come in, drop work in Ponchatoula and Springfield
Extended clip on the nine milli, a lot of hollow tips, no refill
Imagine how the fuck we feel, in the winter time no heat here
I sleep here, all my smokers beg, bum and borrow for free beer
And we feel, you'll need a nigga like me in your life
Drive time it's goin' vrroom
I listen to the radio, we on fly, shawty say she all mine
Color all in the wrong lines, to the dope game I got strong ties
I've sold cocaine, this all the time
Favorite old songs, entitled "White Lines"
Watch rich people snort white lines
With light wine at dinner parties
I been retarded, I leave a party
People start to leavin' like we the party
Thuggin' on, don't mention it
Pockets full of Benjamins
Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked, okay, I'm clockin' cheese
Trap jump off the hinges, in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
Live a hustler, probably die a gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game, and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain't no sleep tonight, bitch, we out here chasin' paper
I'ma let you hear the one, you know the 6's and all that old shit
That we don't fuck around shit
I like this shit, man
Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked, okay, I'm clockin' cheese
Trap jump off the hinges, in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
Live a hustler, probably die a gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game, and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain't no sleep tonight, bitch, we out here chasin' paper
Hate to fall in with a TEC-9, no bandana, no gloves on
Long kiss goodnight, my nigga, but we ain't makin' no love song
This bullshit you sold me got Inisotol, no soda on it
I straight dropped it, lost 20 grams, like what the fuck is you smokin', homie?
Red Camaro, white rally stripes, gon' probably be on TV
Move wrong while the tool on, I'll put your ass on Street Beat
Repeat, you see me, I'm a repeat offender
Park the whip, lay under houses, hear you move 'round with the stethoscope
Arrested for a little vestiges, teach these pussy niggas 'bout stretchin' coke
Bend the bend with the machine gun like, "Say hello to my little friend"
Chick I met at Texaco, down here for school, not visitin'
Say it's about to get interestin', bitch say she from Michigan
Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked, okay, I'm clockin' cheese
Trap jump off the hinges, in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
Live a hustler, probably die a gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game, and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain't no sleep tonight, bitch, we out here chasin' paper
Shipment just come in, drop work in Ponchatoula and Springfield
Extended clip on the nine milli, a lot of hollow tips, no refill
Imagine how the fuck we feel, in the winter time no heat here
I sleep here, all my smokers beg, bum and borrow for free beer
And we feel, you'll need a nigga like me in your life
Drive time it's goin' vrroom
I listen to the radio, we on fly, shawty say she all mine
Color all in the wrong lines, to the dope game I got strong ties
I've sold cocaine, this all the time
Favorite old songs, entitled "White Lines"
Watch rich people snort white lines
With light wine at dinner parties
I been retarded, I leave a party
People start to leavin' like we the party
Thuggin' on, don't mention it
Pockets full of Benjamins
Coke and rock and choppin' off 'em, private goin' on shopping sprees
Glock in my back pocket, already cocked, okay, I'm clockin' cheese
Trap jump off the hinges, in the trenches, all in alleyways
Had to say, each and every day we grabbin' paper
Live a hustler, probably die a gangster and etcetera
Sometime I can't take no break, they keep callin' my cellular
This the game, and we know this life we gon' be alright
Ain't no sleep tonight, bitch, we out here chasin' paper
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
Paper Chasers Lyrics as written by Steve Mckinley Thornton Kevin Gilyard
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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