| 3 million, 4 million, 5 million
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| Haha, we gon' need a money exchange
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| It’s on, it’s on, it’s on, it’s on…
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| September 18th, the album is done baby
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| Yeah! |
| Ultimate Victory!
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| Uh, Mixtape Messiah, I’m on fire
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| And you know this man…
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| I’m so tired of getting cheddar, my cheddar be getting mad
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| I told my cheddar chill, money hid inside my stash
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| I’m so far into the future, I can’t even see the past
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| I’m the ish, baby maybe give a baby diaper rash
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| So greedy that my hand look like it’s in need of cash
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| I’m so greedy that my hand look like it’s been eating grass
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| Want to see the zoo? |
| You don’t even need a pass
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| The wildlife in my garage, how can you not see the jag?
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| You think you can stop my cash, and I’mma tell you how
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| 9−1-1 are the snitch buttons on the dial
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| I put so many jewels on the table on a tile
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| To push all the ice off, you gon' need a snow plough
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| I be drilling it and killing it like Jason in a mask
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| Man this idiot done asked me if Texas rap will last
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| And Roscoes, chicken and waffles on the table, acting fat
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| Or in the middle of Mr. Chiles, putting a table on my town
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| That means I ain’t local so don’t ask me bout a grill
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| I am untouchable so don’t ask me how I feel
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| Real people ain’t have to say it so don’t ask me if I’m real
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| Make a girl squeal, have her acting like a seal
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| I turned on the news, Paris Hilton going to jail
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| I got gold diggers in jail that say protection is for sale
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| I know me having money is the truth cause my deal
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| Just talked, looked at me like «You've, you’ve got mail»
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| My money is my money, my money ain’t a little
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| I open up the safe and there’s money in the middle
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| The Victory is coming, for now here goes the riddle
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| What’s a 170 thousand in the colour of a skittle?
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| What is it? |
| What is it? |
| The candy stuff I live it
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| Just look in my garage, you can’t even say what isn’t
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| A digit, a digit, then add another digit
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| The bank is like my homie so the safe is what I visit
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| So listen, Chamillionaire is about to snatch the crown
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| No matter of fact, just rewind it back cause I’ve already got it now
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| I’m so grown up, and rap is like a child
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| When I’m talking, hope you ain’t talking back before I lift my hand and pow!
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| My style’s versatile, no copy in my style
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| The printer of my ink, you gon' make a copy how?
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| That’s suicide, better call a gravedigger now
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| He’ll be digging a hole in your back yard like a child
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| Soul got karma, hip-hop got calm
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| Tell the Internet stands, that I said I’m number one
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| My Victory is done, who’s sick? |
| It’s me, it’s none
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| I’m getting at everybody like Superhead’s tongue
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| My nuts weigh a tonne, they bigger than your gun
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| No homo but my flow’s so good I think I’m bout to cum
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| …Uhh, can’t prevent it, global warming
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| Know what I’m talking bout? |
| Haha I think its bout to start storming
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| I whip you at your show but wait til you finish performing
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| I show up at your residence while roosters is yawning
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| Like Phoenix Arizona, nuts in the morning
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| I at your crib early giving juice to your woman
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| Like H-Town, Texas, I know Hollywood boys
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| That can hit a golf ball in the sky with good points
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| I watch? |
| Homer? |
| flicks but ladies get moist
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| I’ll make a girl scream and sound like it’s a good noise
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| Rappers bow down to the sound of my voice
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| I’m the rapper that you picking and the south, good choice
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| Got big Tonka trucks that don’t sound like toys
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| And I got homeboys with five 9's like Royce
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| You choice, better be stinging like a Cobra
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| When my homies get it popping like a soda
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| Cola, if your not Chamillionaire then it’s over
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| Top of the charts, I’mma hit it like a Cobra
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| Sep-tember-eight-teen |