[Chamillionaire]
I'm ready to get it started
You better tell 'em I'm the hardest
You hate on me then you retarded
I'mma get mine regardless
Uh, I'm seeing, the rap game's needing
Me to come back to the mixtapes and relieve them
Uh, fans geeking, and rap sales speaking
Saying they in need of someone to believe in
Uh, I'm seeing, that they ain't me
I'll wreck a Polow beat for no apparent reason
And I think it's hunting season
So I'm cocking back and squeezing
Look at the fans, talking bout who spit better lines
I don't know what you're doing but prepare for mines
I don't just spit a line better than Kevin Federline
You better tell 'em I'm really better than whoever rhyme
Hold up, let me get out this chair
Hear you talking bout your hustles, ain't no profit there
Hear you talking bout your deal, that ain't profit square
Y'all get lil' royalties, I get profit share
What up 50? What up Buck? What up Lupe? What up Game?
What up Jeezy? What up Luda? What up T.I.? What up Wayne?
And just cause I say a name, it doesn't mean I'm insane
Cause I'm shoutin out all the artists that make me step up my game
If I say I'm better than 50, his fans is gon' complain
I say I'm better than Wayne, his fans will do the same
I don't wanna ruffle feathers so maybe I should explain
Maybe it's M.O.E., me over everythang
I'm better than you know who, so better that it's a shame
Better than Lil' Mama, I'm better than Lil' Zane
Better than Lil' Blang, imbedded in your brain
I'm better than every rapper that rap with a little name
You should be pissed that I'm pissed
I know some of my past records was a hit or a miss
Don't try to twist up my ish and twist it into a diss
If you gon' twist up what I said then you should twist it to this
Lauren London can get kissed on the lips
And Bill O'Reilly and Don Imus can get hit with a fist
Hakeem, I'm "The Dream", stop missing the swish
And MTV, my name is what you missed on the list
Wait, let me rewind, I really don't want them
To think I'm tryna diss and I just really want them
To know I'm not the type to take Lauren to London
Matter of fact, Lauren be lucky if I take her to lunch man
It's the king of the hill from the land of the trill
What up Elise, can't you see I'm moving in for the kill?
Either I can drop one song a year like Skillz
Or we can get off in these streets, it's time to pay these bills
Gas prices getting high and I'm knowing I got a fleet
I'm skinnier than a mother and knowing I gotta eat
So any rapper out there that's knowing he got a beat
Better never ever allow the instrumental to leak
Studio every day and I'm letting 'em loose
Black and Decker in the trunk, it ain't nothing but tools
When I run a money marathon, it ain't nothing to prove
My closet looking like a stadium, it's nothing but shoes
Jae Millz, ain't forgot about the cover you gave me
Appreciate it G, I'm still one of the crazy
Rebels out of the Texas and I'm runnin 'em daily
Now I'm back off in the streets like F you, pay me
For jackin the Texas swagger, Famous, hand me the dagger
Nah, never mind cause these fakers don't even matter
Mixtape Messiah 4, August 27th
And this just a throw away
I got a draw full of 'em, let's go
Yeah, they offended by words but you can tell it's fear
They say ball till you fall, a fall is never near
They all saying that they ball, who you telling dear?
I manage a whole lot of money like I'm Kenneth Crear
Manage a whole lot of money like I'm Shaka Zulu
You think that I ain't good at rhyming? You out your noodle
Safe sex man, your label tryna prostitute you
I'm on the grind, up earlier than a cock-a-doodle
What up Killer Mike? It's Grind Time man
Rap game in my aim, I'm like 'bang, bang, bang'
Only rappers getting mad, the ones who can't maintain
Now the rappers getting back to the mixtapes man
First they tried to hate when I left, said I'm history
Came back, they telling me that they missed me
Twenty G's for this watch? Are you sick G?
A dot-com on my arm, ThisIs50
Haters talking, acting like they some motor mouths
And I'mma automatic start and turn your motor off
The crib big, MTV can't even show the house
Cause it would take thirty minutes for them to show the couch
F sales, (what you mean?) Bank account is great
Wreckin it since nine-eight and never took a break
Until recently, throwing my rob back in the lake
Rap game tried to give me Kibbles till I took the steak
Stop barking baby, I'm not starving
Getting bucks, you crazy? I'm mill-walkin
Your conscious is talking about caution
Slit your wrists, slit, I'm sharper than Al Sharpton
Koopa, easy
I'm ready to get it started
You better tell 'em I'm the hardest
You hate on me then you retarded
I'mma get mine regardless
Uh, I'm seeing, the rap game's needing
Me to come back to the mixtapes and relieve them
Uh, fans geeking, and rap sales speaking
Saying they in need of someone to believe in
Uh, I'm seeing, that they ain't me
I'll wreck a Polow beat for no apparent reason
And I think it's hunting season
So I'm cocking back and squeezing
Look at the fans, talking bout who spit better lines
I don't know what you're doing but prepare for mines
I don't just spit a line better than Kevin Federline
You better tell 'em I'm really better than whoever rhyme
Hold up, let me get out this chair
Hear you talking bout your hustles, ain't no profit there
Hear you talking bout your deal, that ain't profit square
Y'all get lil' royalties, I get profit share
What up 50? What up Buck? What up Lupe? What up Game?
What up Jeezy? What up Luda? What up T.I.? What up Wayne?
And just cause I say a name, it doesn't mean I'm insane
Cause I'm shoutin out all the artists that make me step up my game
If I say I'm better than 50, his fans is gon' complain
I say I'm better than Wayne, his fans will do the same
I don't wanna ruffle feathers so maybe I should explain
Maybe it's M.O.E., me over everythang
I'm better than you know who, so better that it's a shame
Better than Lil' Mama, I'm better than Lil' Zane
Better than Lil' Blang, imbedded in your brain
I'm better than every rapper that rap with a little name
You should be pissed that I'm pissed
I know some of my past records was a hit or a miss
Don't try to twist up my ish and twist it into a diss
If you gon' twist up what I said then you should twist it to this
Lauren London can get kissed on the lips
And Bill O'Reilly and Don Imus can get hit with a fist
Hakeem, I'm "The Dream", stop missing the swish
And MTV, my name is what you missed on the list
Wait, let me rewind, I really don't want them
To think I'm tryna diss and I just really want them
To know I'm not the type to take Lauren to London
Matter of fact, Lauren be lucky if I take her to lunch man
It's the king of the hill from the land of the trill
What up Elise, can't you see I'm moving in for the kill?
Either I can drop one song a year like Skillz
Or we can get off in these streets, it's time to pay these bills
Gas prices getting high and I'm knowing I got a fleet
I'm skinnier than a mother and knowing I gotta eat
So any rapper out there that's knowing he got a beat
Better never ever allow the instrumental to leak
Studio every day and I'm letting 'em loose
Black and Decker in the trunk, it ain't nothing but tools
When I run a money marathon, it ain't nothing to prove
My closet looking like a stadium, it's nothing but shoes
Jae Millz, ain't forgot about the cover you gave me
Appreciate it G, I'm still one of the crazy
Rebels out of the Texas and I'm runnin 'em daily
Now I'm back off in the streets like F you, pay me
For jackin the Texas swagger, Famous, hand me the dagger
Nah, never mind cause these fakers don't even matter
Mixtape Messiah 4, August 27th
And this just a throw away
I got a draw full of 'em, let's go
Yeah, they offended by words but you can tell it's fear
They say ball till you fall, a fall is never near
They all saying that they ball, who you telling dear?
I manage a whole lot of money like I'm Kenneth Crear
Manage a whole lot of money like I'm Shaka Zulu
You think that I ain't good at rhyming? You out your noodle
Safe sex man, your label tryna prostitute you
I'm on the grind, up earlier than a cock-a-doodle
What up Killer Mike? It's Grind Time man
Rap game in my aim, I'm like 'bang, bang, bang'
Only rappers getting mad, the ones who can't maintain
Now the rappers getting back to the mixtapes man
First they tried to hate when I left, said I'm history
Came back, they telling me that they missed me
Twenty G's for this watch? Are you sick G?
A dot-com on my arm, ThisIs50
Haters talking, acting like they some motor mouths
And I'mma automatic start and turn your motor off
The crib big, MTV can't even show the house
Cause it would take thirty minutes for them to show the couch
F sales, (what you mean?) Bank account is great
Wreckin it since nine-eight and never took a break
Until recently, throwing my rob back in the lake
Rap game tried to give me Kibbles till I took the steak
Stop barking baby, I'm not starving
Getting bucks, you crazy? I'm mill-walkin
Your conscious is talking about caution
Slit your wrists, slit, I'm sharper than Al Sharpton
Koopa, easy
( Chamillionaire )
www.ChordsAZ.com