Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Get on My Level , by - Chamillionaire. Song from the album Mixtape Messiah 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 17.07.2007
Record label: chamillitary
Song language: English
Get on My Level |
| Man that boy throwed, boy throwed |
| Hmm, that boy throwed, boy throwed, man |
| I’m talkin 'bout that Chamillitary boy be puttin it down |
| Grammys, ringtones, whatever |
| If bein rich is bad for my health (umm) |
| Then baby I’ma be ill forever |
| And I’m known to make ladies melt (ha) |
| You boys better get on my level |
| Get on my level, get on my level |
| Get on my level, get on my level |
| Get on my level, get on my level |
| Get on my level, cause your boy burnin up Man, that chrome plated woman, on the hood steady hummin |
| The messiah who’s they summon and the mixtape king is comin |
| Better hope it’s the rapper Nottz, splat somethin on your woman |
| Only thing we got in common, is the cummin demon (uh) |
| -nator, a hater, is less and never greater |
| From continent to continent, I cross 'em like a fader |
| My garage full of «RARRR», yeah Jaguars and Gators |
| My hand is where the oak is gon’land like the Raiders (uh) |
| Grippin, flippin, which vehicle am I pickin? |
| Got a set of chrome feet and a bunch of beat I’m 'bout to stick in Little kids stick they faces on the frame and start lickin |
| Still rollin the old school, with the hood things drippin (drippin) |
| Lady is gravy, her hair is in the wind |
| That vehicle that’s older than your parents is a sin |
| My baby, a lady, got yellow candy skin |
| Open the garage and look in, I’m like where should I begin? |
| (uh) |
| Driver named Rick, I call him Ricky Retardo |
| Is lost in the garage like a game of «Where Is Waldo?» |
| Ask him where he’s at, and he’s like «Lookin for your Gallardo, |
| looked in every spot, but I’ve been lookin for an hour bro.» |
| Sweet tooth candy is on every single car note |
| Starburst rappers in the interior of my car flow (oh) |
| But I’m the rapper that stay burstin on the star though (though) |
| That line went over they head baby, but y’all know |
| Keep plenty chicks in the coupe like a farm yo Keep a car, but I don’t never see a car note (oh) |
| You O.J. |
| Simpson with them broads though (oh) |
| You like 'em white and skinny like a Marlboro |
| And I keep a chick on each arm like Jack Tripper |
| If she think I’m a pick her |
| If not, then I’m a skip her |
| If I land, somewhere on the island, like the Skipper |
| The sex on the beach that I’m a give her, is not liquor (not liquor) |
| You could never think up a thought that’s as throwed as me (uh) |
| Real recognize real, gotta notice me (uh) |
| Paper chaser, we racin, but you ain’t close to C |
| I’m chamillionaire, but who the hell you supposed to be? |
| Bought a crib in LA, so the Hollywood sign would notice me Divine sign, knockin the doors down, that’s how you know it’s me How many cribs really here? |
| Somewhere over three |
| That real estate is Chamillion’s, but let’s just show 'em G Your boy burnin up for real man |
| I’m talkin 'bout tippin down, popped up, wide open |
| Boy’s comin through, fly rides, cars |
| Candy colors, exotic, know what I’m talkin 'bout? |
| H-Town, still holdin, that boy Chamillion’gon’hold it down |
| Uh |