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If Hip-Hop should die before I’m great
I’ma do more than just murder a mixtape
I’ma do more than just murder a mixtape
I’ma do more than just murder a mixtape
Pollution I smell that in the breeze
But let’s try not to get mad at the trees
Tell ‘em all not to get mad at the leaves
Let’s get mad at the idiots that planted the seeds
When it comes to mixtapes I’m known as the Messiah
I influence these other rappers to get tighter
Go to every label and murder the checkwriter
Whoever hired him we should pray they get fired
As soon as they kick him out on Broadway
Show him how to make his hip “hop” the hard way
I bring the whole south with me you should just call me
And we can make a piñata out of him all day
And I even finnin’ to be gentle
You can murder Seline for sending me the instrumental
It ain’t coincidental how they can get in your mental
Then the minute you see it they tell you it was accidental
All rich rappers do is complain
Everybody arguing to be on top of the game
9 out of 10 rap about coppin’ them thangs
Or how the gat go braat braat braat braat when it bang
And it seem like H-Town got the popular slang
Platinum grills everybody else coppin the same
Platinum grills everybody else coppin the same
Then everybody run to that like it’s the poppinest thang
What is that man? Where the hell your swagger at?
Who going to be the first to bring the old swagger back?
Doing what I do seems like boys mad at that
You was sharp homie where the hell your dagger at?
I was a fan sitting up in the stands
When it was M-E-T-H-O-D MAN
You hear M-E-T-H-O-D for Cham
When Rakim was still thinking of a masterplan
And it worked! And now I’ma fit up in my place
Stay humble stay focused and show that I got grace
You better not point the burner to my face
Better load up the burner and then turn it to myspace
Preach! The same rapper that die hard
Bruce Willis with a vest under the Izod
Wanna beat you? Man I ain’t gotta try hard
You getting beat by the internet and your iPod
The label don’t want you to be Master P
Took the master and put it right after P
“Bump it master” but I won’t let them master me
You’re an idiot if you’re giving up your masters free
Corporate America is f-ing up the rap game
While we argue about which rapper got the phat chain
You real gangsta you pulling out your gat man
The real gangsta is whoever own your rap name
Like Busta said “You should give a performance”
That’s the truth us rappers shouldn’t try to avoid it
If you’re married to the game go ahead and divorce it
Especially if it’s rap we ain’t even enjoying it
I am not going to point a ‘K at a magazine
Because of what someone say in the magazine
I can pull out my chain yelling “Bada Bling”
Or on a G4 plane sitting by the wing
Telling you “the leather feel good don’t it?”
For 50 Thou you’ll have a real good moment
The plane’s landed by the pilot that flown it
I am not an idiot cause I’m trying to own it
Little kids look at me and say that “You best”
One point three million in the U-S
Some label exec getting in a new desk
I get an award they tell me that I’m too blessed
Honestly it just excited my family
I just hide the medicine inside of the candy
Get cured by the music blasting out of your Camry
If not I’ll hide the medicine inside of your brandy
Cause I know that y’all boys gotta be drunk
To think that Chamillionaire gonna be a industry punk
I’m a in-da-streets problem you will get stomped
Get kriss-krossed off when the kid jump
Some of them try to rhyme but they can’t rhyme like this
Some of them try to rhyme but they can’t rhyme like this
Some of them try to rhyme but they can’t rhyme like this
Some of them try to rhyme but they can’t
Because I’m the miggity miggity mack that stacks the plat plaques
But rap is so wack so I’m back to spit crack
March 27th I’m back and that’s fact
So rappers that can’t rap get ready ‘cause it’s a wrap!



Lyrics taken from http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/c/chamillionaire/hip_hop_warning.html

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