Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Champions, artist - The Four Owls. Album song Nature's Greatest Mystery, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: High Focus
Song language: English
Champions |
I’m an American psycho, that’s papa from B-K |
Here with Laudy and Jenny, Platinum three-way |
Made payola drop to the D-Js |
So y’all can here me spit a thousand times a weekday |
That’s not me talkin', that’s what the weed says |
Fuck you up then check youtube for the replay |
These little thugs take it too far and need to chill |
Your reputation far exceeds your skill |
The smell of death has a disgustin' aroma |
But hip-hop ain’t dead it’s just in a coma |
Bustin' my chroma |
From my throne |
Let us flow |
Touch and own a |
Champagne shims |
Halfway house |
Dwell in a place where hatred helps satan |
Demons, angels divide soul brethrens |
Skew your meat, call me the psycho American |
Ayo even shape, call me different forms |
So keep your eyes to the floor |
'Cause theirs snakes in the lore |
Killin' new liars leave fakes in the morgue |
The place you’re right now |
That’s the place you’ll be mourned |
Murder, hopeless, jokers with no motives |
Choke her, more loud, now in slow motion |
A flow glow up I’ve got an overdosage |
Of potent power, man the world control it |
You’re going overboard |
Like Robert Maxwell with ya sell shit |
Sometimes I’m selfish |
But I get my own way because my ideas are well picked |
Compare to where I send you, Hell’s bliss |
What makes you ain’t got before you have to |
I stay up all hours writin' in my pad too |
Motivation, let me see the same |
Reason why my hands touch the NPC |
I treat my first line like a coke head treats his ice |
When they can’t stand a liter |
Come on bro, let me know |
Cast off, this’ll be the one test to pass on |
The beat catchers we that do |
We stick close, we don’t mask on |
So pass up on your girl tits, no thanks |
She can be the centerpiece of the Leaf Dog shrine |
All rappers they like customs |
They’re waitin' for the shrine |
But like D-Js, they can’t mix the floor like a sound |
Call me B-F-G, but I rob the fucking giant |
I got away with this like punchin' pigs in the fryer |
So keep quiet and remain unnoticed |
You can’t sit next to the doc |
Son your name ain’t Otis |
Remember this before ya under the radar |
The games all feel like puttin' guns in quasar |
Not long and you fall until you reach the bottom |
Like doin' a bungee jump when the ropes forgotten |
I bring like like the sun brights |
Dumb guys can try actin' clever |
But leave lookin' 'em wise |
I tied their words together |
So their trippin' over their lies |
Hatin' in my face, but at home be feedin' on my shit like flies |
Do M-C-ectomies, there’s a lot of treachery |
Greats that never get to be with the stage or collect a fee |
But not those that next to me |
We’re raw like sopranos |
Player choose the musical type and that’s some sore notes |
I’ll never get popped up like the pill we’re takin' |
There full of shit like statements |
The governments are makin' |
We get recognized by heads like decapitation |
I’m the hundred percent proves my level on concentration |
We stand firm like statues |
We ain’t movin' |
So many at like big daddies banks |
Till we’re proven |
Stay workin' and still be broke shit |
So know the kids before |
They have some chronic product, but we smoked it |
I was born out 'em '86 |
With the top hat and paint and spliff |
A single hit will make the day your shit |
It’s that fruity |
Bigger than a yak’s booty |
The worlds not 'gon like cops when they’re off duty |
Stop researching when the street nick and robs and use these |
Right now start to count and jack your nan’s jewelry |
How the tables have turned from more than tom foolery |
We move a yute and they a super mutant freak |
So you know the coo |
That’s how speak when we movin' our beaks |
O-W-Ls to the Q-unique |
There’s no escaping like Houdini when you snooze in a sleep |
But Mussolini won’t be fakin' a speach |
Pussy dreamin' when I leap for the beat |
Slow flow and now a juice has just flooded the streets |
Not as deep, need the weller is to get you through the heart of the stream |
I get the tag, I got my sight on the dream |
They call me Z but don’t be sleepin' on me |