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[Intro] We have the elegant styles of Chamillitary... hmm? what? We have the elegant styles of the Chamillitary Band On the bass drum you have the elegant Bose the Bobo "The Big Face Spender", and on the bass guitar you have Tanto "The Human Beer Blender" Give it up for Justo's Dirty South DJ of the Year I'm sure y'all know the scratch patterns of uhhh... uhhh... OG Ron C aka "The Jills in my Shills" oh!, you on fire baby So as we get on to the proceedings this evening, it's yours truly... Chamillitary mayne [Chorus - singing] You ain't gotta go home (you ain't gotta go) but you gotta get the hell up outta here If you got someone (somebody) then go get you a room at The Holiday Inn You ain't got no one (nobody) than go have some fun by yourself (ohhh yeaaah) But whatever you do don't let the door knob hit you on the way out [Verse 1] Niggaz was throwin' rocks at the thrown and I got word of that The sequel to The Messiah? For what, I already murdered that Niggaz hatin' on me but look at 'em, the nerve of that Nigga this ain't this type of beef you can't take the burger back SongtexteBurn it back, into my pocket I'm tryin' to stop it unless your mouth keeps leakin' Dick back in your socket How does it feel, to know you wasted your whole lifetime Livin' your whole lifetime just to worry 'bout mine Gimmick niggaz was dissin' me, he was fake they was missin' me Came to replace and make history, B I made 'em history You could feel like you real because that feeling eventually gonna shrivel up when reality turns it into misery You niggaz is killin' me with your wannabe me's You a artist, we bosses the one's that fund the CD's All you gonna-be, wannabe, gonna punish me please You got me laughin', I'm askin' if niggaz wanna be Steve Harvey, no your hardly, funny at all *Runnin' the Game* not at all, homie your runnin' your jaw We grown folks, kiddie schoolers need to go run up the hall Nigga's borin', just ignore 'em and the dummy will fall My brother is my descendant, we runnin' a mile a minute Hut, hut! it's time to win it, I'll see you behind the finish If you get there, quit there Got your swisha lit player? Blow smoke in the air for the Color Changin' Click, chea... {*applause*} [Chorus] [Verse 2] Ladies and gentlemen, homie must be on heroine Victory for me, but he thought he would have the narrow win My aim is to blam', when I load it inside the barrel and put the third eye on him and do a little more than stare at him Poet, I know it I'm mister modern day Shakespeare I'm a writer, survivalist; what it is? It ain't fear The absolute truth is just something some niggaz can't hear He don't live here no mo', he got convicted he ain't here How the heck you set fiction on a table, put truth aside What you speakin' my nigga, you can't look me into my eyes? The good Lord spoke the truth and that just got him crucified, y'all scared of the sharp dagger Your tradin' your truth for lies Look me in my eyes, nevermind I ain't tryin' to spook ya Voice of the present, the past, yup I'm the future Soon as you speak the truth all the hater'll try to mute ya, but if you the truth arbitrators will call ya Koopa Martin Luther King Koopa Many of 'em will listen, but if you can't take the heat than get ya hot ass out the kitchen I heard words from Makaveli ridin' was the ambition so I bomb first on fake niggaz like I'm in his position "Aye Chamillion you trippin'", nuh-uh I'm handling business Raise my hand to the man and my right hand as my witness I got a fo' to the fizzle that's sure to damage your fitness, but it ain't really even that serious to tan ya with stitches P you actin' suspicious, you know me better than that If it was for a false reason I would never react But you know me better than rap, niggaz was tellin' me fact So you could miss me with publicity if they tellin' me that, never that... {*applause*} [talking] Thank you, thank you I appreciate the support Everyone please take your seats, I'm not done... there's more... [Verse 3] In this world of falsifying where niggaz be claimin' they real Turn around and tell you a lie 'bout what he paid on his grill Same nigga that talk big 'bout what he made on his deal The same that ask me for advice like "They don't pay me Chamill'" Rappers ain't really real only a few of 'em ball pissy colored diamonds yup I'm one of the few of 'em y'all Talkin' about yo' piece and chain and a few lil' cars Four thousand to five thousand for what you do as a star But keepin' money in the vault is the hardest part of the art Knowledge got my crew smart even when my crew is apart "Chamillionaire you did 'em wrong, why don't you get a heart?" If I showed it to you would you see what it could do in the dark Whether you like it or not don't really matter to me 'cause most of the love I normally keep inside my family tree So you can gossip 'bout what really happened with Hatta and me, or you can gossip how so and so way better than me It don't really matter to me, because I'm done with it now The maturity level that I'm at isn't even fun for a child So set your mouse pad on the internet and punish my style Or set your Reeboks on the streets of Houston runnin' me down It's whatever I been better at provin' a nigga wrong Tell Goliath I don't need rocks to prove a lil' nigga strong So tell Watts, forgive me I'm groovin', I'm in my zone Property of Mike who? He ain't here that little nigga gone {*applause*} Aus Songtexte Mania