Songtext Butane (champion's anthem) Killer Mike

Butane (champion's anthem)

[Killer Mike:]
Looking for the truth, yeah it's me,
Everythang polo to the floor, go even at the grocery store
It's so perfect, take a photo
And take the pic you buying bitch and so stitch you logo
Bitch you with the quatro, but my girl Mercedes
With the Audi say the quatro was a [?]
You can put on killer kill or 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 home
An underground rap [?] what I'm meant to be
Then I will be the shit and you ain't shit to me

We won, we the ones with the champagne, champagne
At the end of our campaign
Spit fire, main true like the blue flame, like the blue slang
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Let me see your hands up if you do say
[?] and we both like Husain
More money, more problems, more butane
Burn the motherfucker down, down,

Life's a bitch so I'm mack on her immaculate
I don't wear no market watches Rolexes to accurate
My rhymes actually accurate, meaning I don't fiction in my diction
To the masses this perfection is perform through many practices
This like prostitutes to mattresses this shit just come naturally
Easy ass osamas, bamas, taking many casualties
Like Columbine I'm down for mine [?]
Killing them or killing me, this is my senility
Iller than the iller then the illest be, I will spit this illest shit, from right here to infinity
Till I reach the dirt, I will search the earth endlessly
Looking for the [?] ain't nobody lyrically, as I'll as me
As eazy e, come back from the A-I-D-S yes, get a beat from E-O-P, ghostwritten from my partner T-I-P cube
Every time, travel back to 95, jumping in a 63 Impala, playing Cuban Linx

We won, we the ones with the champagne, champagne
At the end of our campaign
Spit fire, main true like the blue flame, like the blue slang
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Let me see your hands up if you do say
[?] and we both like Husain
More money, more problems, more butane
Burn the motherfucker down, down,

[El-P:]
Yo, I'm a grinch with a grin, I will shit on your kids
Get a light, get a grip, get a hold of my dick bitch
Make a wish
I'm the knife, I'm nothin' that's nicer than gettin' sliced up, the switch, the machete, the fetty, yeti, the sheister icer, gettin' closer to Christ, ya might just find a design to your life, the angel hair short of the divine love
I stink, I just stunk up a truck with 12 bricks I'm a Sphinx, snort so much my nose just broke off, think
I'm alone again clutching a loaded glock soaked in chromium hoping the thought police just don't bust in my home again
Life is tough, you'll get snuffed on the buff so dystopian, rough, rough, 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 wranglers got my hopes on the run, getting closer now
Maybe our society's supposed to drown
Middle finger up on the Titanic as it's going down

We won, we the ones with the champagne, champagne
At the end of our campaign
Spit fire, main true like the blue flame, like the blue slang
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Let me see your hands up if you do say
[?] and we both like Husain
More money, more problems, more butane
Burn the motherfucker down, down.