Artist: Killer Mike f/ El-P Album: R.A.P. Music Song: Butane (Champion's Anthem) Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com [Killer Mike] Yaah! Yaah! Yaah! YAAH! Lookin for the truth, yea it's me Everythang Polo to the floor doe Even at the grocery store doe Picture perfect, take a photo And take the pic, you bitin bitch and sew and stitch a logo Yaah! Yaah! Yaah! YAAH! 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 Killer Kill, Fat Boy, or just Michael Call me what you will but still never call me rival They will call you dead, and I will call you gone The Lawd Sweet Jesus will be weepin callin yo' ass home If underground rap royalty's what I meant to be Then I will be the SHIT, and you ain't shit to me - gone! [Chorus] We the ones, we the winners, we the champ-ions Champagne at the end of our campaign Spit fire, naked truth like the blue flame like the blue flame (Yaah! Yaah! Yaah! YAAH!) Lemme see ya hands up if you do the same Caught the plug and we +Bolt+ like Usain Mo' money, mo' power, mo' butane Burn the muh'fucker down (down) [Killer Mike] Life's a bitch so I mack on her immaculate I don't wear no monkey watches, Rolex is too accurate My rhymes actually accurate, meaning I don't fiction in my diction To the masses this perfection is performed through many practices Like prostitutes on mattresses, this shit just come naturally Easy as Osama's bombers takin many casualties Like Columbine, I'm down for mine I'm here to kill the faculty Killin them or killin me, this is my soliloquy Iller than the illest beat, I will spit the illest shit from right here to infinity, 'til I reach the dirt I will search the earth endlessly, lookin for the illest, see Ain’t nobody lyrically as ill as me, 'less Eazy-E Come back from A-I-D..S, yes Get a beat from E-L-P, ghostwritten from my partner T.I.P. Cube and me, and we time-travel back to '95 Jumpin in a '63 Impala, playin Cuban Linx [Chorus] [El-P] Yo Mike they fucked up puttin us together man Yo.. I'm a Grinch with a grin I will shit on your kids, get a life Get a grip, get a hold on my dick, bitch make a wish I'm a knife, I'm nothin that's nicer than gettin sliced-up The switch, the machete, the feti Yeti, the Shiesta Icer, gettin closer to Christ, ya - might just find that the design of your life's an angel hair short of divine love I stink, I just stuck up a truck that said Brinks I'm a Sphinx, snorted so much that my nose just broke off - THINK I'm alone again, clutchin a loaded Glock soaked in chromium Hopin the thought police just don't bust in my home again Life is tough, you'll get snuffed in the buff So dystopian, ruff ruff, hear the call of the copper mutts on the hunt What the FUCK! This is not what my mother said I'll become Star-spangler rangelers got my hopes on the run Gettin closer now, maybe our society's supposed to drown with middle finger up on the Titanic as it's goin down [Chorus] Yaah! Yaah! Yaah! YAAH!