Chris Patrick Check Me Lyrics

[Verse 1]
I was dead broke, sleeping on my cousin couch
Kicked out of the crib for talking crazy at my mother house
Pops said: "Get a job," made my chicken taking other routes
f*ck i look like working for a bitch, nigga, cut it out
Them rent payments was due, what I do? Boy, I thugged it out
When Grandma hit the tomb, what I do? Boy, I thugged it out
Niggas swore we lose, what I do? Boy, I thugged it out
Settling for less, I'm better off putting a gun in mouth
'Cause bitch, I rather die, then let you niggas ever think I'm p*ssy
I'm a double XL Rookie, I'm not ducking L's, I'm upping shells
Might f*ck around if you push me, smoking shit 'til every vet bleed
I'm from Midland Ave, Jersey's finest screaming out:
Who gon' check me?

[Verse 2]
The money don't even feel real, still getting use to me touching it
Girl of yo dreams, asleep in my arms, nightmare for you 'cause I'm crushing it
I f*ck with Jermaine, but let's keep real, I'm still getting the Cullinan
Can't tell me shit, I'm outside moving, boy, I'm Him like Marlon Wayans
At this age, there ain't much news to me, these bitches all the same
Feature price gone dumb, of one of those, I could hit Jonny Dane
Bling, blow, shit gon' glisten like a vintage Cartier
I'm on ten, going stupid, screaming out:

[Chorus]
Who gon' check me? Who gon' check me? Y'all get checkmate, I'm like: "Check please"
120 on the dash, they can't catch me
Who gon' check me? Who gon' check me?

[Verse 3]
Uh-huh, uh-huh, TSA damn near my family
Wrote so many of these hits in the sky, United gon' get to a Grammy
Y'all get the call to come in to work, Bryson called me to Miami
Spearheaded like I'm Randy, in Booby Trap, smacking on candy
I could tell who broke when I talk 'bout investments
And peep when they don't understand me
I could tell who really get hoes off, the way niggas move, niggas be tender
The head so good, got amnesia, she ask if I knew her, I ain't remember
Anemia cold, I want the girl I'm with with the chain on December
You send them shots my way, my dogs will return that to sender
Wallahi, I really got Muslims on go to shoot clips that don't render
Futurama, keep one eye on the prize like that bitch that roll with bender
In the booth, a nigga in his prime, I'm Kobe Bean against defenders
Aye lil' bitch

[Chorus]
Who gon' check me? Who gon' check me?
Y'all get checkmate, I'm like: "Check please"
120 on the dash, they can't catch me
Who gon' check me? Who gon' check me?
Who gon' check me? Who gon' check me?
Y'all get checkmate, I'm like: "Check please"
120 on the dash, they can't catch me
Who gon' check me? Who gon' check me?