Chamillionaire - Gutta Gorillaz lyrics

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Chamillionaire - Gutta Gorillaz lyrics

Hey... [Chamillionaire] Bad is how I kick n***a no way, that little a** pager is so gay My 2-way way too big to be a 2-way, it's a 4-way Ask me who the hardest rapper n***a, you know who I'm gon say I'ma say ay-ay-ay, like JT Money and Sole Koopa don't pay for the four play, you tell her how much that you gon pay You must be kin to oranthol, cause you a Simpson like you OJ OJ throwback no way, the OJ throwback I throw away Too many n***as dress alike, I ain't trying to be you for the whole day Look like a 2 Fast 2 Furious clip, on a tow away It look like I'm riding backwards, rims spinning the wrong way See that Fake-ob I mean Jacob on your arm, n***a no way That ain't authentic, we know what it is but I won't say Wanna know if my pockets fat, and how much do my do' weigh A question like that, will get a chick kicked through the do' way I don't give no do' away, get out she gon obey She gon take the coat from a Lil' Jon song and say, (okaaay) Gutta gorilla, mayn I ain't no Holly Wood industry a** n***a no, they don't call me On the phone like they wanna bone, cause they know prolly The chick I'm with gotta have a upgrade, and a J-Lo body My princess cuts why the slugs, look kinda like lightening bugs Rims double the size of dubs, they standing as high as us Koopa don't keep a strap scratch that, cause he prolly does Keep a heater with extra slugs, in a clip in his Ivy dubs For a minute, Nappy Roots had a whole movement by being po' Through that movement I was moving units, they must of been moving slow True I'm on the radio, but I prove I'm streeter than Greg Flip the microphone off the stand, and you'll get beat in the head (*talking*) Yeah, my solo album Controversy Sells Drops in November, on the same day as Paul Wall's "People's Champ" solo album, Color Changin' Click-clack [Rasaq] Aw s**ering-s**atash, who's that coming up on that cash Screens go z-z, when I push a bu*ton up on the dash But a weapon up on my a**, do dirt like what's under gra** Two shirts might have something stashed, you jerk if something flash You move if something blast, you hurt and on your a** You cursing when I pa**, I'm swerving in a slab It's Rasaq on the block, in a drop with no top With a bottle with no top, and a model with no top And I'm going to the spot, where n***as is losing Put the clip up to you spit it, and let it rip through your FUBU Dog I know cats that'll break you, in a kitten caboodle's In a range for a funeral, for the n***as who knew you I'm in the hood in the hallway, where there's pissing and doo-doo And the fiends creeping at night, and come up twitching up to you I recycle what I see in the hood, and deliver it to you With n***as is coo-coo, hang with a few loose screws Or when I'm flipping in hoo-doo's, sitting on two-two's Listening to new Screw, j**elry is glistening and too blue And I'm chilling with your new boo, I ain't forced her in the whip Got her talking so much, I told her to put a cork in it Like Sammy Sosa's bat, leave your mammy with a swollen back These tracks on a broke mattress, a couple of bones is cracked And I'm gone no coming back, no hugging no rubbing backs I'm thugging and loving stacks, n***a how you loving that I bring it to you I bring it to you I bring it to you

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