[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
