Lyrics:
Summer of '14
Working southeast in Columbia
Writing about some shit I hadn't seen
Like your incoming call
Smoking chains of Pall Mall
Trying to do
of wicked high society
Eating from a tree of good and evil philosophy
Ultra MK LSD supposedly
Officially canceled by Congress in nineteen seventy
Until they
to read your lips
The more the mask you're wearing rips
But when I seek out your voice
My ears are overcome with noise
You show and tell with greatest ease
Semi auto bravo kickin flavor in your ear
This a Sunset roulette could make your problems disappear
Pass a gun and hear a click
We just happy that
down, speakin on some pigeony shit
Like the whip wasn't yours, like you let him forget
So you scrape up some manhood and give him a look
By the time
"You're makin moves on your own, huh?"
"I got ears, you know? I hear things
You know?"
What about them? What about Gaspar Gomez?
What is he gonna do when
news
Welcome to the evening news
I thank you all for tuning in
Yes I'm your host and your journalist
It's Chamillionaire so let the news begin
Our
evening news.
Welcome to the evening news, I thank you all for tuning in,
Yes, I'm your host and your journalist,
here Chamillionaire, so let the news
befo' you got your deal
These rappers finally get some fame, and think they got it locked
After your album flop, nigga you gon be on Koch
My gear
sow seed in this strange booth
I could grow inside uh your ear and maybe change you
Hindsight is 20/20, that's a rare view
Couple hunnid verses
disappear
That's what I do when I rap, that's what I do when I snap
Do not be giving me money 'cause you are not getting it back
I heard your album
grab you by your neck it's cause you think I'm stupid
I'll turn your night into a dream like I was Freddie Kruger
I mind my business son and fed my pits
Westmore (Mount Westmore)
Sinister Slap
That'll slap in your ear pods and your lap
(okay)
Tremendous treble, on the hood of my cock
Drinking out the bottle
the hot shit supposed to be and think if you close to me
Meaning I'm the shit even if you had 999 ear wigs
I spit the ill shit that make your brain sick
tell him all in all we ain't never falling off
Album of the year, he said mazel tov
Spitting it cold like Häagen-Dazs
Chill bro you think you up next
me
I hope one day you see see
The energy your bringing
To the table has been claimed By the Devil
You breathe but inhaling all the Weed
Will deplete
the way that my flow bores
And leave your ears up shit creek without a funk oar
Now certified wise gotta hold o ya
We got the whole lot o cop and magnolia
chidori
I
love my business
My
Life like Christmas
I
Shoot by songs
So
Throw out pistols
My main enemy is in my head
Your Rolex is shit, cause you already
excitement like a hooker
So put rubbers on your ears, then diaphragms on your woofer
as the rhyme buster, mic clutcher, from Richmond
show the real
still here your ears we'll seize
Graham, Greg, Grant: the Synth Master
Kick you to the curb like we did the pastor
You barely know her, but this is
gun do my dialogue, ain't really with that talking
My nigga's come thru with chopper, they ain't knocking
Couldn't knock to save your life
You just
note rings
Open your ears to music, it'll probably blow your mind
I'm blessed with internal fire, pull the wires from behind
All your eyes, your moves,
percent of your advance when you scored a deal
You been hustling way too long to think that deal was non tax
You owe 5 albums so don't complain you still in
Aye bro, finally!
Welcome to the album, Listen Hard Or Disregard
(I'm still drunk) Facts, and we're on our way (Yuh!)
Smoke said the folks throwing
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