A Poor Man's Journal

by Chris Chronic

supported by
Adam Hale
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Adam Hale Yo CP. It's your time to shine my friend and well deserved. Bringing back those Wick beats man, taking me back to the good ol days of DP. Great stuff man
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about

This is the long awaited solo album from Divine Profitz member, Chris Chronic.

credits

released April 20, 2017

album credits:
Chadwick for killing every beat on the album
Anthony gillison for mastering
Ben Gill for mixing
Brian Crawford (a.k.a.) BenOfficial for promoting
Randlph Neblett (a.k.a.) Fan Ran for promoting
Lee Kirby (a.k.a.) Swerve for recording,mixing,promoting

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

Chris Chronic Richmond, Virginia

Chris P. a.k,a, Chris Chronic, current member of local hip-hop group Divine Profitz,has been blessing the mic since the mid 90's with original, thought provoking, conscious, anti-commercial, music and lyrics.

contact / help

Contact Chris Chronic

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Track Name: Damn America
Eveything we've been told is a lie
we were forced into slavery,bought in december then sold in july
to work the fields til we die.
a lot fought with bravery, with no fire arms
they were slain with no grave to see.
ask me why we can't get no reparations,
it would be too devistating to the cracker congregation
won't a one among us til columbus enslaved the haitians
they the ones that brung us, hung us up like dirty aprons
and then they set the mind control over the d-bo's,
keep us ignorant so we can't tell that we ain't equal
feed us trash,scraps and ham bones
anything the master too good to put his hands on
keep your anthem, got my own damn song
and if you feeling me then feel free to sing along
i pledge allegiance to my peeps in different regions
who are considered heathens just because they seeking fair treatment
bare feet men, working in the heat with little to eat
sleeping like thirty deep man, kept in pig pens
herded like sheep,converted to christians or murdered an beaten
too many people see this world through a weak lense
thinking what they gonna do on the weekends
if it won't for those that passed we wouldn't be friends
you know the first shall be the last in the end
you had a good run crackers
but one of these days ya'll be pickin' our tobacco
with a black man's name on the front of that tractor
the fact of the matter' we ain't going back to africa
if anything, ya'll gone be the ones to pack it up
how would you feel to be told you ain't black enough
for a shipping job, mainly just packing stuff
that's why we actin' up , the system ain't backing us
so let me break it down on how they cursed the sacred ground
just because my face is brown, jake wanna take me down
lock away and throw the key for slangin' dope in 0's and ki's supposedly
but i been baggin flows up like the groceries
stop approaching me , i won't be judged by a bunch of thieves
i'll hold a grudge and won't budge over my beliefs
won't close my eyes to the lies or turn the other cheek
this is my turn to speak, hoping ya'll learn from me
Track Name: Smokin' In The House
I tried to track my father's foot steps from the front door
they led me right up the block to the liquor store
the window reflected visions of the man i was looking for
a picture of myself was wthe image i was looking towards
i guess my dad started off like me
disobeying the rules breaking down the family tree
i was too young to know if he abandoned me
or had to leave cuz he can't stand the heat
CHORUS
Man it's hard for a young black kid these days
even harder for my mother with four seeds to raise
mad bills to pay, mad meals to make
waking up every morning , more work and no play
she made us pray for every meal we ate
and it's things like that i still do today
but i didn't listen when she told me to stray
away from the kids smoking haze and selling yay
i was heade down the same road my old man paved
cheated on the test of life i made my own grades
kicked out of school at an early age
i know my earth don't wanna see me in a early grave
locked up like a slave for the rest of my days
or jobless with kids to raise, its just a phase
but if i don't obey her rules today
i gotta find a new place to stay
Track Name: Keep Smiling
I say them nugs feel good in my chest where they rest at
bless the cat wit them bags of the wet-wet
it got a nigga's head set, people passing out on me
i ain't been to bed yet, it's been a long week
first started with a call from my ex
telling me one of her students shot herself through the neck
and it don't get no better, only twelve years old, had a suicide letter
now, what could make this little girl think
that taking her life would justify anything
i'm just an ordinary guy must must intervene
when it's things like this it affects the whole team
kids think they old only in their late teens
life expectancy shorter than lil cease
grand-daughters diseased and raising seeds
barely know how to breathe and got kids to lead
mouths to feed, and they man like, look chick
ima be up out this piece,
tough shit but sometimes it's the chick that leaves
bump clits with another chick and switch her beliefs
i done seen stranger shit before believe you me
if you don't believe me ask one of my peeps
they tell ya chris ain't lying and his flows is deep
he got 0's for cheap,
the smell from the dro in his sneaks give you the creeps
on the mike, i don't think you want it with he
switch back first person, i don't think you want it with me
on the beats on the streets or puffing the tree
you gotta learn something from me , whether it be
about family, insanity , cops bagging me over a bag of weed
or just talking bout how life can be
fun one minute than trife the next
you either hustling or busting your ass off for that check
but when that check stop coming and that water stop running
what a man like you gone do
as long as these beats stay pumping and we teach these people something we'll always have dreams to pursue
i said when that check stop coming and that water stop running
what a man like you gone do
as long as these beats stay pumping and we teach these people something we'll always have dreams to pursue
Track Name: They Say
Give me my grape drink, give me my fried chicken
fuck stereotyping pimpin that's how i'm living
skinny as fuck and higher than a mars mission
look down see the stars when i start pissin
e&j in the cup preaching my new religion
free enrollments in my class but few admissions
if you rollin up that grass man that's your tuition
your girl ain't giving up that ass well it's her decision
a couple slurps from this purp now her skirt missin
she get on my nerves but damn she an work a kitchen
like i work a track, flip it like she serving yack
baby can you work it back, yeah i can work wit that
go on and pull my curtain back
nigga my verses are perfect so whats the purpose black
flow going over yo head like a circus act
you ain't scratched the surface jack
hip-hop dying, well i'm trying to nurse it back
CHORUS
I'm a funny mother fucker
you a fucker my mother said was funny with your lover
undercover brothers, you bubba he little smuckers
under the covers you folding like warm butter
should've never let you bathe with your lil brother
now you can't behave at a rave lil clubber
your daddy should have snuffed you with the louisville slugger
before uncle buck touched you between the legs during supper
i know i got it, flow melodic, smoke exotic
and i think outside the projects while you crackers in the closet
can't jack or sabotage it, it's that chris chronic logic
hot shit need to cop it, watch how i rock it
knock'em out the box chris
you know i just might touch mics , get under your skin like dust mites
emit enough heat on the beat to bust pipes
and that weed that i get on the streets taste just right.
Track Name: Don't Know Whatcha Missin'
All my life been looked at like a bastard
i never gave it much thought, it don't matter
cuz i was told good guys die faster
and hardened crimnals would die soon after
if i applied myself then i could master
the art that lies inside, that of a true rapper
hard to cope when my soul and heart clashes
like trying to smoke resin out a bowl with wet matches
i'm sleeping on the same old mattress
still use tapes, all my cd's got scratches
we make new songs but each one's a classic
measures that we take are extremeley drastic
the messages created turn feens to sctivist
take a step back,breathe adapt to this
before i spit my next track i practice it
that's fair warning for the one's that spit after chris
CHORUS
I'm underrated in this rap game
cuz of my name they think the only topic is mary jane
but i speak about the trife life and various things
whether serious or hilarious i spit it the same
any click that want to get at us i feel they insane
since the day i was born i went against the grain
politicians want to bury us with shackles and chains
if we follow their traditions how the fuck we gone change
they corrupting the youth with substance abuse
the public disputes, the governments gunmen shoot
inner-city children left with nothing to do
they took away their playgrounds and gave them kazoos
now they stuck in the crib, eyes glued to the tube
watching the lies that they viewed on the news
too many soldiers died now they need more recruits
who you think they're going to choose boy me or you