El Chapo Songtext
von Mr. Criminal
El Chapo Songtext
On the rise like el Chapo
These foos can′t see me like el Chapo
From nothing to something like el Chapo
They want me dead or alive like el Chapo
I throw the West Side I'm like al rato
Been wanted since before I hit my teenage
Sharpening my skills ese look at what the streets made
A criminal at a young age because I couldn′t behave
A menace to society, is what my actions relay
Used to be stuck in the hood, homies free base
Now I got movie money, hundreds in the briefcase
Used to be in stolen Honda civics, in the courts
When I faced trial, the only time I prayed to the lord
Coupl-couple homies shot in the face next to me
Used to have street envy, way before I had jewelry
Before I had these albums out, before I had these movies
Used to hide in my closet in my dresser tec's and uzi's
Excuse me, is your name Roberto Garcia?
That was way before the L.A. fair jumped by maravilla
Way before my first cletcha, way before my first wila
Way before my first homie lost his vida
On the rise like el Chapo
These foos can′t see me like el Chapo
From nothing to something like el Chapo
They want me dead or alive like el Chapo
I throw the West Side I′m like al rato
For some reason, they wanna stop my cash flow
Been on my humble game, not trying to be no asshole
I pass those that grab those, like crabs in a bucket
I remember posted on the block, straps I would tuck it
And the cops used to hit my pad, nothing to discuss
I remember sergeant Johnson telling Lopez, go ahead cuff em
I remember them raiding, hiding stress in the oven
Stashing dope in the ceilings, even in my moms stuff
And I had nowhere to run, living all in the streets
The P.D. had my name on a A.P.B., an all points bulletin
Cause I grew up as a hooligan, underestimated
All this banging shit would throw me in
Living life on the run wasn't no fun, no food no soul
With some dope and a gun
Had to stay off the phone cause the landline was tapped
No matter where I was, was strapped
On the rise like el Chapo
These foos can′t see me like el Chapo
From nothing to something like el Chapo
They want me dead or alive like el Chapo
I throw the West Side I'm like al rato
These foos can′t see me like el Chapo
From nothing to something like el Chapo
They want me dead or alive like el Chapo
I throw the West Side I'm like al rato
Been wanted since before I hit my teenage
Sharpening my skills ese look at what the streets made
A criminal at a young age because I couldn′t behave
A menace to society, is what my actions relay
Used to be stuck in the hood, homies free base
Now I got movie money, hundreds in the briefcase
Used to be in stolen Honda civics, in the courts
When I faced trial, the only time I prayed to the lord
Coupl-couple homies shot in the face next to me
Used to have street envy, way before I had jewelry
Before I had these albums out, before I had these movies
Used to hide in my closet in my dresser tec's and uzi's
Excuse me, is your name Roberto Garcia?
That was way before the L.A. fair jumped by maravilla
Way before my first cletcha, way before my first wila
Way before my first homie lost his vida
On the rise like el Chapo
These foos can′t see me like el Chapo
From nothing to something like el Chapo
They want me dead or alive like el Chapo
I throw the West Side I′m like al rato
For some reason, they wanna stop my cash flow
Been on my humble game, not trying to be no asshole
I pass those that grab those, like crabs in a bucket
I remember posted on the block, straps I would tuck it
And the cops used to hit my pad, nothing to discuss
I remember sergeant Johnson telling Lopez, go ahead cuff em
I remember them raiding, hiding stress in the oven
Stashing dope in the ceilings, even in my moms stuff
And I had nowhere to run, living all in the streets
The P.D. had my name on a A.P.B., an all points bulletin
Cause I grew up as a hooligan, underestimated
All this banging shit would throw me in
Living life on the run wasn't no fun, no food no soul
With some dope and a gun
Had to stay off the phone cause the landline was tapped
No matter where I was, was strapped
On the rise like el Chapo
These foos can′t see me like el Chapo
From nothing to something like el Chapo
They want me dead or alive like el Chapo
I throw the West Side I'm like al rato
Writer(s): Roberto Garcia Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
