k**er Mike - Butane (Champion's Anthem) lyrics

[Verse 1: k**er Mike] 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 b**h 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 k**er k**, 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 loss with jesus we be will be we'll be calling you a** home An underground rap ,what I'm meant to be Then I will be the sh** and you ain't sh** to me [Hook] We won, we the winners with the champagne 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 Caught the plug and we bolt like Usain More money, more power, more butane Burn the motherf**er down, down [Verse: k**er Mike] Life's a b**h 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 ma**es Perfection is performed through many practices I prostitute the mattresses This sh** just come naturally Easy as Osama's bombers takin many casualties Like Columbine I'm down for mine I'm here to k** the faculty k**in them or k**in me This is my soliloquy Iller than the illest beat I will spit the illest sh** from right here to infinity Till I reach the dirt I will search the earth endlessly looking for the Hennessy? Ain't nobody lyrically as ill as me, that's Eazy-E Come back from A.I.D…S yes Get a beat from E-L-P, ghostwritten for my partner T.I.P Cube and me Every time, travel back to 95, jumping in a 63 Impala, playing Cuban Linx [Hook] [Verse 3: EL-P] Yo, I'm a Grinch with a grin, I will sh** on your kids Get a light, get a grip, get a hold on my dick, b**h Make a wish I'm a knife, I'm nothing thats nicer then getting sliced up The switch, the machete, the fatty Yeti, the sh**e Getting closer to Christ yah Might just find your design of your life an angel head short of divine love I stink, I just stunk up a trunk to sell bricks I'm a Sphinx, 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 get snuffed in [?] What the f**, this is not what my mother said I'll become Star-spangled wranglers got my hopes on the run Getting closer now Maybe our society supposed to drown Middle finger up on the Titanic as it's going down [Hook]