Butane (Champion's Anthem) [feat. El-P]

歌詞

Looking for the truth, yeah, it's me Every thang Polo to the floor, though even at the grocery store It's so perfect, take a photo And take the pic, you buying bitch and sew a stitch, your logo Bitch, you with the Quatro, but my girl Mercedes With the Audi say the Quatro was a two door, so a typo You can put on Killer Kill or Fat Boy or just Michael Call me what you want but still never call me rival They will call you dead and I will call you gone The Lord, sweet Jesus will be weeping, calling you ass home If underground rap royalties what I'm meant to be Then I will be the shit and you ain't shit to me We won, we the ones with the champagne Champagne at the end of our campaign Spit fire, naked truth like the blue flame Like the blue slang, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Let me see your hands up if you insane Pull the plug and we bolt like Usain More money, more problems, more butane Burn the motherfucker down, down Life's a bitch so I mack on her immaculate I don't wear no monkey watches, Rolex is too accurate My rhymes are actually accurate Meaning, I don't fiction in my diction to the masses Perfection is performed through many practices I prostitute the mattresses, this shit just come naturally Easy as Osama's bombers takin' many casualties Like Columbine' I'm down for mine' I'm here to kill the faculty Killin' them or killin' me, this is my soliloquy Iller than the illest beat, I will spit the illest shit From right here to infinity till I reach the dirt I will search the earth endlessly looking for the Hennessy Ain't nobody lyrically as ill as me, that's Eazy-E Come back from A-I-D-S, yes Get a beat from E-L-P, ghostwritten for my partner T-I-P Cube and me every time, travel back to '95 Jumping in a '63 Impala, playing Cuban Linx We won, we the ones with the champagne Champagne at the end of our campaign Spit fire, naked truth like the blue flame Like the blue slang, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Let me see your hands up if you insane Pull the plug and we bolt like Usain More money, more problems, more butane Burn the motherfucker down, down Yo, I'm a Grinch with a grin, I will shit on your kids Get a light, get a grip, get a hold on my dick, bitch Make a wish, I'm a knife I'm nothing that's nicer then getting sliced up The switch, the machete, the fatty Yeti, the shyster Getting closer to Christ, yah Might just find your design of your life An angel hair short of divine love I stink, I just stunk up a trunk to sell brakes I'm a Sphinx, so much that my nose just broke off Dang think I'm alone again Clutching a loaded Glock soaked in chromium Hoping that the thought police just don't bust in my home again Life is tough, you get snuffed in puff So dystopian, ruff ruff Hear the call of the copper mutts on the hunt What the fuck, this is not what my mother said I'll become Star spangled wranglers got my hopes on the run Getting closer now Maybe our society supposed to drown Middle fingers up on the Titanic as it's going down We won, we the ones with the champagne Champagne at the end of our campaign Spit fire, naked truth like the blue flame Like the blue slang, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah Let me see your hands up if you insane Pull the plug and we bolt like Usain More money, more problems, more butane Burn the motherfucker down, down