Chris Jones - Bliss [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Chris Jone$]

What's the word sometimes I got to ask it
My flows make you dance if you trynna do a backflip
Uh, What you lackin' is the formal art of rappin'
You got me crackin' up, where's the chapstick?

It's magic when I hit the scene, doors open and I feel the vibe
You can't look me in the face? Man, I feel a lie
I take regrets and I seal them in an envelope
You saying you the best, im type nice, and you kind of dope

This is art, this is opera at its greatest
You can't drop a mixtape and still claim that you made it
Cause' other niggas fucking up, got to keep your duckets up
Money stacking to the tip top, with this hip hop

When my shit drop, I must cop me a wrist watch
Keep your lips locked, my shit popping and his not
Know I can't let, my destiny get the best of me
The esectame I spit, eventually could pin a referee

What I spit real, extreme illness
I Gotta go hard so my children could feel this
And im still in it for the luxury and millions
Right now, I gotta write down, bout' my lifestyle

Nigga pipe down and let a king rock the mic' now
Tell me what you doing, achieving could take believing
Im seeing it while im dreaming and what im speakin ether
Im chasing cheese, these niggas after my pizza

Rock my sneakers, you better watch what you speak of
If you talking shit bout' Jones, you better speak up
Credit visa, im too busy making bank trips, ain't shi
Niggas too busy saying "I hate Riffs"

Gotta love it, what we lack, is weak raps
Make your green stack, that cheap chat, is feedback

Haha, Jones, Chris Jones, Riffs
Uh, shoutout my niggas man, word, Cezbeats