Chamillionaire - C.C.C. Runnin the Game lyrics

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Chamillionaire - C.C.C. Runnin the Game lyrics

(*talking*) Rasaq on the block yeah yeah Uh, it's the boy Rasaq, Color Changin' Click-clack Let's go mayn, uh, uh [Rasaq] I got them black dudes feeling me Cause my hand light up in the sky, like the Statue of Liberty A tattooed celebrity, but I keep the chopper That go blacka, I push that through your memory Half of my enemies, wanna see Me and my bro shot down, like a family of Kennedy's Ask who as real as me, it's the C.C.C You should see, how happy them yella's be When they see the car, nicely dropped With the paint job, that look like a icy pop Your wifey jock, she like Rasaq Thick hips, with the tiny top You could find me propped, in a grimy spot Soon as the nine is popped, your mind is blocked Your body start tripping, trying to find the clot Mommy start tripping, trying to find the watch She wanna find my knots But all she get is nut, right behind my crotch Mommy stop, it's Rasaq When she see the O's and commas, Pocahontus Coming out those pajamas, you know this mama And I'm like a camera, focused on her By the end of the night, I'ma be poking on her Cause I know she wanna n***as think they running this man [Hook] Don't get me started, y'all know who the hardest Doing your thang, but regardless baby Color Changing Click, is the name That's running the game Get it in your brain n***a, Color Change Mmmmmm, running the game Get it in your brain n***a, Color Change Mmmmmm, we running the game [Chamillionaire] Let me give you a couple reasons, we running the game It's Koopa Chamillionaire, and Koopa mayn How couldn't I spit a flame with a name, like that name I spit and it's flammable, you can ignite that mayn Tired of these industry cats, and pretend to be raps First they pretend to be this, then pretend to be that No you lying falsifying, when can we see facts Your raps would be phat, as soon as you pretend to be wack That, would be a little closer to the truth I'ma puke if your group, get any closer to the booth It's an oxygen booth, where it's suppose to be a roof Cause the air in my braided hair, when I'm opening the Coupe Rasaq on the dream team now, him a winner Anybody got any words for him, I'm finna Slam your face towards my rim, and spin the spinner So you can tell your friends, you had spinning rims for dinner Ha-ha, who the heck is better for A balling metaphor, or go getting cheddar for A Coupe with the yellow doors, instead of the yella's drawers If hating on me is a hobby, go get a better chore Boy, any n***a that got tension Send you to de-tenetion, and n***a to not mention Did I mention, you don't want my attention Crush you like Bone Crusher, not scared I'm not flinching Let's see what the ambulance, do for you Well if y'all two brothers, rap is y'all two footer Little kids naw lady, every thought's too gutter Don't get it confused, by the name in the cartoon cover Got paper, longer than your arm Just look how the boy flosses, hating that boy tosses His fist towards your face, to your jaw It's purple as Paul's chorus, Koopa can just haunt it [Hook] [Rasaq] This is for the down South Dirty, swangas vogues My Northside n***as, my Southside whoa I slide on the scene, with a mouth full of golds I slide on the block, like I'm fresh off parole Not Destiny's Child, but call me Kelly Rowland Bright red top, and them Perelli's is rolling And my fellas is holding, the metal he toting So fellas, please don't provoke him Dolla bills folding, chicks wanna hold some Homegirl better stop fronting, and show something For all my n***as, dosey-do Two step around the club, like you throwed from dro Oh, them haters don't trouble me though Cause this year, I'm bout to make double the do' All the girls loving him thoed, they loving the flow Open the do' they come in and go, oh they loving us so Maybe cause that tattoo's, maybe Cause we braided up black dudes, maybe cause we rap too And flash j**els, where shades when the light coming at you Ice so cold, I got the flu n***a ah-choo Why you think, they call me Rasaq I got Rasaq's on the chain, and Rasaq's on the watch Coming down the block, n***as think it's the cops Cause the roof turn red, and blue on the top When n***as point the lead at you, it goes pop Acres Home's dead at you, we don't stop It's Houston a hot town, we got it on lock Before the c.d. drop, it's already on the block And them girls, already on the jock And them rims trilling on them shocks, n***as mouths drop Looking shocked, my raps thoed my hooks is hot I'm thoed weather I spit, hooks or not I took the block, around the world and back I took homegirl, around the curb and back Yeah n***a, the birds is back And I ain't talking bout herb or crack, I'm talking bout Hershey yaps But I still, love them thick girls Hair in a bun, rocked up in a thick swirl Stay down with me, we bout to get rich girl If you picture fit girl, damn I really miss girl I leave her on the curb, with her lip curled Her friend wouldn't shut her up, now she interrupt Seat bout to f** her up, pick her up The seats really love her bu*t, she think I love her bu*t I'm too gutter, for bu*tercup I'm in a Coupe counting bu*ter up, man (*talking*) Rasaq on the block n***a, uh Ghetto Sta-uh, Ghetto Status n***as Ok, y'all wanna play, down South gutter Hey, yeah

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