Lirik Lagu Barat Southern Takeover Artist Chamillionaire

Lirik Lagu Barat

Southern Takeover
Chamillionaire

{Intro}
Gun cocking,
shots fired

{King Koopa}
The sound of revenge,
haha

Woo,
tell em what it is mayne

{Pastor Troy}
Welcome to the New World Order

Atlanta,
Georgia

{King Koopa}
Houston,
Texas,
he already know

{Pastor Troy}
The south is takin over

{Chorus x2 - King Koopa}
Just look over your shoulder
Let me see who just showed up
It's the southern takeover
You betta tell em I got drinks that stand on top try and stop

{Killer Mike}
It's the mister fo fifth told em
Cookin coke with baking soda
Dub roller,
pro smoker
Wood gripper,
pistol whipper

Muck a nigga if he figure
F**kin with my figures

Makes him richer,
he should know

Instead,
it'll make him better than a slimy 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 coke and package come up shorter

Might kidnap yo wife and daughter

Bury them down deep in Georgia

No D
A
s a f**kin lawyer prosecutin witnesses

We excutin,
start the shootin,
start the lukin,

Start the violence,
start a riot

Get this motherfucker crunker,
crunk as you can get it

Pass that ho,
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

Try your track,
set up shop

Try and stop

>> Chorus:

{King Koopa}
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 damn seen a city that I think is not the realest

We bummin on his ass

He ain't finishin his sentence

I only got a minute

I feelin about a digit

You lookin at a nigga 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

Nigga chamillionaire never show no problems

You don't want no 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 ass niggas don't fight with a nigga

Pull out a billfold,
put a price on a nigga

I have this camp fo put a knife in a nigga

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,
nigga NGA

Yeah,
that's a classic

Ridin in the classic

Tote a mill,
and I blast em

Send em to the casket

Send em to the morgue

Slap me a nigga 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 nigga just lay weak

{Chorus x2}