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Butane (Champion's Anthem) [feat. El-P]
Killer Mike
[Verse 1: Killer Mike]
(Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
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 bitch
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 Lord, sweet Jesus, will be weeping calling your ass home
If underground rap royalty is what I’m meant to be
Then I will be the shit and you ain't shit to me
[Hook]
We the ones, we the winners, we the champions
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 do the same
Caught the plug and we bolt like Usain
More money, more power, more butane
Burn the motherfucker down, down
[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Life's a bitch 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, this perfection is performed through many practices
Like prostitutes on mattresses, this shit 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 shit
From right here to infinity, Till I reach the dirt
I will search the earth endlessly looking for the illest, see
Ain’t nobody lyrically as ill as me, 'less Eazy-E
Come back from A.I.D…S yes
Get a beat from E-L-P, ghostwritten from my partner T.I.P
Cube and me and we time travel back to 95
Jumping in a 63 Impala playing Cuban Linx
[Hook]
Yo Mike they fucked up putting us together man
[Verse 3: EL-P]
Yo, I'm a Grinch with a grin, I will shit on your kids
Get a life, get a grip, get a hold on my dick, bitch, make a wish
I'm a knife, I'm nothing-that's-nicer-than-getting-sliced-up
The switch, the machete, the feti Yeti, the shyster
Icer, getting-closer-to-Christ ya
Might just find that the design of your life is an angel hair short of divine love
I stink, I just stuck up a truck that said Brinks
I'm a Sphinx, snorted 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'll get snuffed in the buff
So dystopian, ruff ruff, hear the call of the copper mutts on the hunt
What the fuck, this is not what my mother said I'll become
Star-spangler wranglers got my hopes on the run
Getting closer now, maybe our society's supposed to drown
Middle fingers up on the Titanic as it's going down
[Hook]
compositores: JAIME MELINE, MICHAEL SANTIGO RENDER
(Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah)
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 bitch
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 Lord, sweet Jesus, will be weeping calling your ass home
If underground rap royalty is what I’m meant to be
Then I will be the shit and you ain't shit to me
[Hook]
We the ones, we the winners, we the champions
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 do the same
Caught the plug and we bolt like Usain
More money, more power, more butane
Burn the motherfucker down, down
[Verse 2: Killer Mike]
Life's a bitch 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, this perfection is performed through many practices
Like prostitutes on mattresses, this shit 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 shit
From right here to infinity, Till I reach the dirt
I will search the earth endlessly looking for the illest, see
Ain’t nobody lyrically as ill as me, 'less Eazy-E
Come back from A.I.D…S yes
Get a beat from E-L-P, ghostwritten from my partner T.I.P
Cube and me and we time travel back to 95
Jumping in a 63 Impala playing Cuban Linx
[Hook]
Yo Mike they fucked up putting us together man
[Verse 3: EL-P]
Yo, I'm a Grinch with a grin, I will shit on your kids
Get a life, get a grip, get a hold on my dick, bitch, make a wish
I'm a knife, I'm nothing-that's-nicer-than-getting-sliced-up
The switch, the machete, the feti Yeti, the shyster
Icer, getting-closer-to-Christ ya
Might just find that the design of your life is an angel hair short of divine love
I stink, I just stuck up a truck that said Brinks
I'm a Sphinx, snorted 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'll get snuffed in the buff
So dystopian, ruff ruff, hear the call of the copper mutts on the hunt
What the fuck, this is not what my mother said I'll become
Star-spangler wranglers got my hopes on the run
Getting closer now, maybe our society's supposed to drown
Middle fingers up on the Titanic as it's going down
[Hook]
compositores: JAIME MELINE, MICHAEL SANTIGO RENDER
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