Chamillionaire

Chamillionaire - Mixtape Murder lyrics

Your rating:
[Intro]

Uh, mixtape murderer

Talkn bout murder

 

Yeah, they say they need part 6 but look at how i light up the city

It's that boy Chamilli, many say that they don't feel me

But they don't want it really, nothin gon move but the money

You know I know the drilly, my reality be showin like Flava Flav or Diddy

She got some back and some tittes, and man it's such a pity

She think I give her my hustle just cuz the fact she pretty

Really busy, chasin scrillies and countin all my millies

I'm really all about scrilly, and I mean that sincerely

Just like that VIC single, the game is gettin silly

But so much cheese is stackin like sandwiches in philly

Runnin around for the millies, I think I'm gettin dizzy

I'm notorious at doin it bigger like I'm Biggie

Join my fan club, you a hater, bring some backup

Let my lac up, and hit the switch and it ill back up

They can't stand em, make Bill O'reilly have a tantrum

Bet the grands come and if I'm on it, it's an anthem

Get the grand son and give a million to my grandson

Yeah we have fun, but told the chick that she can have none

I heard Plies say that he will never buy a Phantom

I make 28's fit on the ish, you better ask em

I attatch em, I love the dolla's I romance em

I just cash em, no homo but my money handsome

An assassin, be killin the mic with a passion

I just smash em, then I head right back to my mansion

They just actin, but real is my only reaction

Shoes on my whip, that's where haters jack their fashion

Swagga jackin, i'm swagga'd up you swagga-lackin

Swagga pass em, my swagga on inspite of lappin

Tell em don't listen, if you hate the way my flow is flippin

Still tippin, wheels glisten, my vouge's are swang and clickin

Brain n bullet equals pain, who wanna do addition?

Pop the clip in, get to trippin, you thinkin that I'm slippin

Believa, always an over achiever

Take a breather, your paper little just like ceaser

Have a seat bra, I make that hater have a seizure

When they see the number of coats that's on my Beamer

Lift the dough up and on her feet is where I leave her

Then I proceed to gettin my dough up like a Keebla

I don't need her, be Livin Single like Kadeeja

I won't even go send a cab to go retrieve her

Hustle been deadly before Fred ever met Betty

Spree-wellin like Latrelly on Spinners and Perellis

That was back before Nelly was ever seen singin on the telly

I been grindin gettin feti, underground Makavelli

My dictionary is missin, so what is competition?

Think he dissin, he ain't likin how much my pinky glisten

I ain't trippin I ain't missin, that diamond let it glisten

Pop my trunk up and the sign is readin, I'm gon fishin




Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found