Chamillionaire "Southern Takeover (feat. Killer Mike and Pastor Troy)" |
[Chamillionaire] + (Killer Mike) The Sound of Revenge Haha whoo Tell 'em what it is man (Welcome to the new world order Atlanta, Georgia) Houston, Texas Y'all ready [Chorus: Chamillionaire] + (Killer Mike) Just look over your shoulders, shoulders Got something to show ya, show ya It's the southern takeover, its over You better tell 'em (I got dreams to stand on top Try and stop, blot blot block) Just look over your shoulders, shoulders Got something to show ya, show ya It's the southern takeover, its over You better tell 'em (I got dreams to stand on top Try and stop, blot blot block) [Killer Mike] It's the mister falcon toter, cook cook coke with baking soda Blunt roller, dro smoker, wood gripper, pistol whipper Light ya nigga if he figure fuckin wit my click will make him Richer, he should know instead of it will make him deader Deader money, fucking with my money, get yo money Stacked right out of Sunday School On a bright and sunny sunday, this ain't funny I ain't joking bout my coke and package from a shaolin Might kidnap your wife and daughter, bury them down deep in Georgia No D.A. or fucking lawyers prosecuting witnesses We executing, start to shooting, starting to do this fucking violence Start a riot, get this motherfucker crunk or as crunk you can get it That that dro, I'ma hit it, out of line, nigga I spit it Spit it, live it, cause I live it, you don't walk it, you just talkin Pistol totin and they knowing that's my snow and got his dope and I ain't holdin, steady slangin, right on your black-a-block Hit your trap, set up shop, try and stop, blot blot block [Chorus] [Chamillionaire] This ain't about a image, this ain't about a gimmick Cause you stand to the side and the game gotta diminish I'm damn sure that this city don't think that he the realest He whooping on his ass before he finishing his sentence I've only got a minute to tell you about a digit You looking at a nigga like I ain't about to get it I'm looking at the money like I ain't about to finish So you need to mind your business if you worried bout your business Uh, I'm a H-Town Soldier, I'ma come With the trunk up, and don't remind cha If you say your getting it, shoulda told chu bout a Nigga named Chamillionaire that's fo sho a problem You don't want no problem, probably gonna need the fo-fo remind 'em Yeah you tip on and ride em, We ride 4-4s when the dough beside 'em 6'6 taller looking like he a sinner, 10 tattoos looking like he a killer Skinny ass niggaz don't fight with a nigga, Pull out a billfold, put a price on a nigga It's kinfolk, put a knife in a nigga from his car to his pocket then right in his liver It was a big boy to put a slice in the middle, ? Killer Mike with the killer Don't mess with the south, homie that's a dream, hallucinating or imagining We so XXL with the gats I mean, something ready to blow in the magazine You know that them southern cash is mean, front dents smile for me when I stash my cream Pull up with the candy paint that'll match my green, Killer Pastor, they just ain't imagining [Chorus] [Pastor Troy] Y'all know me as PT, well uh huh and all of that Black on black with black tip, I can't help but represent I content I wanna know who the fuck you take me for Studio rappers without your boy's tape, drop my top and bust my ak No more play in G-A, yeah that's a classic Riding in the classic, totin me a pastor Send 'em to the casket, send 'em to the morgue Slap me a nigga cause I'm motherfucking bored Chamillionaire, I kinda fond of my surroundings Get my Desert Eagle and get to motherfucking pounding Up and down the street, throwing heat out the driver seat Riding to the beat, tell them niggaz adjust they feet [Chorus] Lyric from www.lyricmania.com |