| Here lizard-lizard-liazrd, uh It’s the almighty King Koopa, Chamillionaire
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| The color changing lizard, the Mixtape Messiah
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| Please stand for the ghetto national anthem, let’s go Forget what them boys is talking bout, I’m true-I'm true
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| You riding swangs you gripping grain, I do-I do You candy red you candy blue, you popping trunk you jamming Screw
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| Don’t know about you, but I’m true-I'm true
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| Forget what these boys is talking bout, we wipe boys down
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| In South Park on MLK, on Sunday we clown
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| From the streets of Antoine, to the Homestead hoods
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| From Mo City to Studewood, it’s all good
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| I’m riding on platinum grey, with Z-Ro and Trae
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| Gon let the top down, it’s a beautiful day
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| Haters jealous on the sidelines, running they mouth
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| Cause I roll with T.I.P., the king of the South
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| Boys know I’m Paid In Full, so they clocking my dollas
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| Me, Poppy, Joe and Fox all riding Impalas
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| I’m breaking bread with Mike Jones, and Slim Thug the Boss
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| It’s Paul Wall, still representing Swishahouse
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| I’m with my boy Big Kaila, I don’t bar no hater
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| I’m on the grind for paper, I’ll holla at ya later
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| Forget what they talking bout, I’m in love with my wealth
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| I ain’t gotta say I’m true, cause true speak for itself baby
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| They say I’m the greatest of all time, and I say who and they say you
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| If she’s a dime tell her I’m fine, and she’ll say true-true
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| Turn up the bang if you into, something color changing the rims do Sound like a train cause when I stop, they be like choo-choo-choo
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| And I’m thugging too homie, the heater kinda like Al Bundy’s hand
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| Believe me everytime you see me, it’s gon be in her pants
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| If I do a crime and you snitch, homie the heater will snitch too
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| Cause if the police come around, it’ll be pointing at you
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| Somebody give mouth to mouth to this mic, after it melt
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| Cause the only rapper out rapping me is me, after myself
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| I hope you internet thugs, that will swear that I ain’t the tightest
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| Have cyber sex with Cita, until you catch a virus
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| Why is he saying this, to piss boys off
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| I officially claim myself, the rap King of the South
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| The say I’m the greatest of all time, and I say who and they say you
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| And I say naw, give that title to the late great DJ Screw, rest in peace
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| The definition of a pimp is (me), cause I ain’t doing shit for (free)
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| I got my own label now, if you ain’t heard it’s (Clover G’s)
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| Now me and Will chasing the scrill, we pulling up on chrome wheels
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| Nigga, your royalty check looking like my phone bill
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| Quick to capping picture snapping, paparazzi follow me Yeah I’m platinum I’ll slap him, if he smoke up all my weed
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| I love to speed on dubs and Spre’s, bitches leave the club with me Snitches mean mugging me, don’t make me bust my fucking heat
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| We popping trunks and smoking blunts, that sticky-ickie (ooh-wee)
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| Last year I did a mill, now I’m bout to do (three)
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| I bring the heat on every track, it’s five G’s for every bar
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| Just because I’m in a Porsche box, don’t mean I like the spa
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| That don’t mean I like the car, you know I’m down to break your jaw
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| Just because I burn rubber, that don’t mean I like the tar
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| We ghetto stars in every state, like Pimp and Bun we keep it trill
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| And if you ain’t heard, it’s Lil’Flipper and Chamill' |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song True Remix, artist - Chamillionaire. Album song Controversy Sells, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп