mc chris is dead and he ain't never coming back
you should have been nicer when you were blazin' up the track
no well wishers
just bitches talkin' trash
'cause the aftermath is saying that rap is whack
on arrival
watch his rivals revel the jealous
relish the moment their opponent went sublevel
six feet under
what a bummer
it's no wonder the waste
could have been a contender
now maggots march on his face
mc's often in his coffin
lyin' down
lost in thought
groupies gather at the grave and done throw posies on the pot
haters hate off in the distance
telescoping with binoc's
smoking basket after laughing
get their knickers in knots
they play
in the park
in the dark
where they spark a spliff
raise it high in the sky and cry this hit is for chris"