| I’m chokin players like I’m Bob Knight, choke the coaches like I’m Sprewell
|
| They bowin to the 'Sayers till they knees swell
|
| I shake the game up worse than Single White Females
|
| Walkin to they car alone flashin three bills
|
| These little kids are talkin 'bout how little I know
|
| Boy, I grab a mic and rock you like you’re Triple 5 Soul
|
| With a civilized flow, but if you say my name I’m like Beetlejuice
|
| Dice you up and slap you till your teeth are loose
|
| I’ve seen the noose and will not get lynched by the industry
|
| Nor will I have a A&R pimpin me stickin his thing in me
|
| I’d sing for free for some years if it’s clear to me
|
| That if I’m there for my team they’re there for me
|
| For real, I be diligently killin the soliloquies
|
| Of these millipedes that try to pass themselves off as ill MC’s
|
| I weave a web of words so intricately
|
| That the English dictionary lacks an adjective to fit me
|
| If he want my album tell him not to fuck with ATAK
|
| He was hatin and Slug told the bitch to send my tapes back
|
| And if I lose my voice then instead of sayin raps
|
| I start paintin facts on the wall with hot Crayola crayon wax
|
| You’re now rockin with the champion
|
| You know you’re in a war that can’t be won
|
| You need to stop and understand me, son
|
| Cause I got a pocket full and I can hand you some
|
| I wasn’t lyin 'bout them muthafuckin hairy hands
|
| Well how you think I tear a man till he can barely stand?
|
| I share the land with hustlers hollerin my chorus back
|
| I’ll do anything for the cats that show support like that
|
| When I battle they hold my back, y’all most be smokin crack
|
| Eyes are screamin, «I ain’t supposed to rap,» come on, you know you’re wack
|
| These Minnesota cats touch down in places where it’s dormant at
|
| Bring they muthafuckin trophies back
|
| I’m like big up my man Optimus Prime
|
| I’m like what the fuck do rappers got in they mind?
|
| I might jump on the stage and start hollerin rhymes
|
| Maybe bend your back around and make you swallow your spine
|
| Cause it’s clear you ain’t seen no one this tight in years
|
| When I sing I can bring Brian McKnight to tears
|
| I have to consume, Ali capture a room
|
| And before my son was born I made him dance in the womb
|
| MC’s put up your titles, I be grabbin em soon
|
| Them faggots are doomed, worse than breathing hazardous fumes
|
| Like (* heavy breathing *) (There it is)
|
| Yes, now let the magic resume, biatch! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Champion, artist - Brother Ali. Album song Shadows On The Sun, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп