southern takeover lyrics – chamillionaire

(feat. killer mike, pastor troy)

[intro]
gun c*cking, shots fired.

[chamillionaire]
the sound of revenge, haha.
woo, tell em what it is mayne (tell em what it is).

[pastor troy]
welcome to the new world order.
atlanta, georgia.

[chamillionaire]
houston, texas, he already know.

[pastor troy]
the south is takin over.

[chorus x2 – chamillionaire]
just look over your shoulder (shoulder)
let me see who just showed up (showed up)
it’s the southern takeover (its over)
you betta tell em i got dreams to stand on top, try and stop (pop pop pop)

[killer mike]
it’s the mister fo fifth told em
cookin c*ke with baking soda
dub roller, pro smoker
wood gripper, pistol whipper.
muck a n*gg* if he figure
f**kin with my figures.
makes him richer, he should know.
instead, it’ll make him better than a money f**kin with my money.
get yo money stacked right outta sunday school
on a bright and sunny sunday.
this ain’t funny.
i ain’t jokin bout my c*ke and package come up shorter.
might kidnap yo wife and daughter.
bury them down deep in georgia.
no das af**kin lawyer prosecutin witnesses.
we excutin, start the shootin, start the lukin,
start the violence, start a riot.
get this motherf*cker crunker, crunk as you can get it.
p*ss that dro, i’m a hit it.
outta line, we gon spit it,
spit it vivid, cause i live it.
you don’t walk it, you just talk it.
pistol totin, and a loadin.
that’s how smokin got this dope
and i aint hopin, steady slangin
right on yo trappa block.
take your track, set up shop.
try and stop (pop pop pop).

[chorus]

[chamillionaire]
hey hey, this ain’t about an image.
this ain’t about a gimmick.
p**sys stand to the side.
now the game got a menace.
i d*mn seen a city that i think is not the realest.
we b*mmin on his *ss.
he ain’t finishin his sentence.
i only got a minute.
i feelin about a digit.
you lookin at a n*gg* like i ain’t about to get it.
i’m lookin at the money like i ain’t about to finish.
you need to mind your business.
if you ain’t about your business.
i’m a h-town soldier.
i’m a come with the trunk up yeah i’m a gon remind ya.
if you ain’t gettin it you shoulda told ya father.
n*gg* chamillionaire never show no problems.
you don’t want no problem (problem).
get em g’ed shoulda let the fo fo remind em.
ya you tip on the ride em.
i be ridin fo fos on the door beside em.
6′ 6″ tall lookin like he a center.
10 tatoos lookin like he a killa.
skinny *ss n*gg*s don’t fight with a n*gg*.
pull out a billfold, put a price on a n*gg*.
i have this camp fo put a knife in a n*gg*.
from the car to his pocket then right in your liver.
was a big boy that put a slice in the middle.
ya head fast think you hold a mike with the killa.
don’t mess with the south homie, thats a dream,
hallucinate or imagining so.
double xl with the gats i mean,
keep somethin ready to blow in the magazine.
and you know that southern cash is mean.
franklins frown for me when i stash my cream.
pull up in candy paint that match my green.
killer, pastor, and koopa are the master machine.

[chorus]

[pastor troy]
y’all know me, it’s pt.
well i hunt and all of that,
black on black, with black tip.
i can’t help but represent.
i’m not content, i want more.
who the f**k you take me for?
studio rappers not the fortay.
i drop my top and bust my ak.
no mo play, n*gg* nga.
yeah, that’s a cl*ssic.
ridin in the cl*ssic.
tote a mill, and i blast em.
send em to the casket.
send em to the morgue.
slap me a n*gg* cause i’m motherf**kin bored.
chamillionaire, i camoflouge in my surrounding.
get my desert e’s and get to motherf**kin poundin.
up and down the streets,
throwin heat, out the driver’s seat,
ridin to the beat,
tell them n*gg* just lay weak.

[chorus x2]

/ chamillionaire lyrics