Penicillin

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Chink Santana

Andre Parker (born September 2, 1972), known by his stage name Chink Santana, is an American R&B musician and producer from Washington, D.C. His achievements include co-producing Ashanti, the award-winning debut album from the singer of the same name. He also worked on her follow-up, Chapter II, and has recently co-written and produced tracks on Judgement Days, the second album by English singer/rapper Ms. Dynamite. He was also part of the making of Jim Jones' album, Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product of My Environment). more »

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I’m talking needle-pushing
Shoot-ups in abandoned buidings
I’m talking senseless killings
Grannie’s on that Penicillin (O-o-o ohhhhh)
I’ve got nothing to lose
Hit the block til it bruise
Hit the bottle til I’m whooz
Let them bottles move
You couldn’t skip a hole in my shoes

I’m talking hit the heights
Trying to get that white
Talk to Bobby trying to get that price
If I get that right i can hit the pike and
Try to triple that price
If we whip it up right
We can drop it once and we
Can get it back twice ‘Cause it's that life
We learn to hustle and twist
The wrists like dice my bag, my bag
Money on the floor fist full of dice
Head cracked, scoop it up
Toot the horn when I hit the light
Wrists got lights like I came in the
Room and I clicked on lights
Fly cars, crispy nikes
Gucci belt with the fifth on tight
I swear, this game i’m cautious, contrite
My man got caught
Swear to god I was with him last night
But you know what they say
Here today and we gone tomorrow
So with that being said we going
To play like it’s no tomorrow

I’m be someone other i’m tune in and go
Round these parts i’m a motha fucking pro
Everybody lie low I got a 40 to unload
One-stop shop you can get it and go
Smashing on you niggas so far in the rear
I’m shitting on yo bitches
Like I got diarrhea feeling letting go
In the fast lane
Thuggin’-ass niggas need to stay in your lane
Get you autotuned i ain’t talking T-Pain
This rap shit easy ain’t noting but a game
Niggas want bricks I can call in the thang
I’m getting crazy money
You can call it insane

I’m talking 30 grand rental car
Grandma’s pat, pyrex jaw
Turnpike to go get that raw
I'mma rip it til I get that hard
I'mma hustle bitch i'mma hustle ho
And I'mma wrap them stacks in rubber bands
Until I fill a duffel bro
Then I gonna cop that porche
With cuarto doors, never loved that horse
Eight hundred houses
Nigga let me see how strong them jaws is
Bitch drop them drawers
Then show me some losses no Ricks, No Rosses
I’m gonna show you who the boss is
I’m flossing i’m on top off switch
Ratchet in my lap yellow Signs
Bitch, caution better pause like the comma
You can bring the entourage
We’ll bring the drama no scripts though
(Will you get through the
Water cross that boarder?) no ships, though
(You can place your order listen, caller)
Ain’t no drips, though
(You can meet us in Georgia, got that for ya)
Bring them chips though
(Mothafucka don’t try to short us)

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