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!