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Butane (Champion's Anthem)
- Killer Mike/El-P
Looking for the truth yeah it's me
Everything Polo to the floor though
Even at the grocery store though
Picture perfect take a photo
And take the pic you biting b**ch
And go and stitch a logo
(Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah)
Hit you with the quatro
But my girl Mercedes
With the Audi say that
Quatro was a two door so a typo
You can put on Killer Kill
Fat Boy or just Michael
Call me what you want
But still never call me rival
They will call you dead
And I will call you gone
The loss with jesus we be
Will be we'll be calling you a** home
An underground rap
What I'm meant to be
Then I will be the sh*t
And you ain't sh*t to me
We won we the winners with the champagne
Champagne at the end of our campaign
Spit fire naked truth like the blue flame
Like the blue flame
Yeah Yeah Yeah Yeah
Let me see your hands up if you
Caught the plug and we bolt like Usain
More money more power more butane
Burn the motherf**ker down down
Life's a b**ch so I mack
On her immaculate
I don't wear no monkey watches
Rolex is too accurate
My rhymes are actually accurate
Meaning I don't fiction
In my diction to the masses
Perfection is performed
Through many practices
I prostitute the mattresses
This sh*t just come naturally
Easy as Osama's bombers
Takin many casualties
Like Columbine I'm down
For mine I'm here to kill the faculty
Killin them or killin me
This is my soliloquy
Iller than the illest beat
I will spit the illest sh*t from
Right here to infinity
Till I reach the dirt
I will search the earth endlessly
Looking for the Hennessy
Ain't nobody lyrically as ill as me
That's Eazy-E
Come back from A I D…S yes
Get a beat from E-L-P
Ghostwritten for my partner T I P
Cube and me Every time
Travel back to 95
Jumping in a 63 Impala
Playing Cuban Linx
Yo I'm a Grinch with a grin
I will sh*t on your kids
Get a light get a grip
Get a hold on my dick b**ch
Make a wish
I'm a knife I'm nothing
Thats nicer then getting sliced up
The switch the machete
The fatty Yeti the shite
Getting closer to Christ yah
Might just find your design of your life
An angel head short of divine love
I stink I just stunk up a trunk to sell bricks
I'm a Sphinx
So much that my nose just broke off think
I'm alone again clutching
A loaded Glock soaked in chromium
Hoping that the thought police
Just don't bust in my home again
Life is tough you get snuffed in
What the f**k this is not
What my mother said I'll become
Star-spangled wranglers
Got my hopes on the run
Getting closer now
Maybe our society supposed to drown
Middle finger up on the
Titanic as it's going down
