A Spear Chucker Now – Chuck Spears


So I was feeling a little nostalgic and looked through my old rhymes on my old blog, Stop Trying To Play Me and came across this post. I decided those lyrics needed to be punched up and laid down on a track. . I’ve been meaning to sample a scene from Bowfinger, one of my favorite movies. So I did exactly that

Verse 1
The thing about Chuck Spears, it  ain’t my given name.
It’s my taken name and right now I’m takin aim.
Not a muh f**ker outchere – trying to make it rain.
Money over bichez – (all day)- flying paper planes
(Eat  -mangoes) so a chick  can get – flavored brains
(swallow every drop) –  don’t gotta think about – labor pains
(Bastards ain’t mine) – other dudes gotta take the blame
(Players gone play) – give a f*ck – if you hate the game
Verse 2
Used to, hold the door for chicks like Johnny Be Good
Now I bang ‘em in the bathroom like Mami we, good?
Throw up the peace sign, throw up in the next stall
Then jump on the stage and holla, Yes Yes Y’all
We Don’t stop, throw your hands in the air
And say Ho, grab my nuts. See? I just don’t care
‘Cause it ain’t even a show there ain’t even a mic
On a table in a diner rapping with a butter knife
Missed the gig, my bad  it was the other night
Am I wrong for that, these days I don’t do nothing right
I’m dead wrong,  good thing I’m true and livin’
Try to check me on it,  come on, who ya kiddin’
I’m Chuck, Part Samson, Part Charles Manson
MMM Bop I’m Part Hanson, just start dancin’
No reason to stand still I like moving targets
My Spit got you open – kinda like chewing carpet
Verse 3
Bald head and goatee, like a black ming the merciless
sickness contagious on some dot dot circle shit
in a dark cabin I’m creepin up all murderous

brains on the walls confuse obituary journalists
put on headphones see how mind blowin my vesres is
for example watch a star from afar like Copirnicus
Straight heat to ya grill, like you’re pressed up on furnaces
No more Mr. Niceguy, Chuck Spears gone Bezerkowitz
Cross me on a bad day and all ya dreams turn to shit
having Nightmare see ya old Granny  turning tricks
got ya drooling down ya chin, kids gotta learn to spit
Don’t even practice with my lines – guarnteed to burn ya lips










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