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Mixtape Messiah 5
01. Intro
02. Keep Hating, Part 2
03. Swagga Like Koopa
04. I Got
05. Internet Nerd's Brother
06. Chop Chop Chop
07. The One to Hate
08. All I Got Is Pain
09. Act Right
10. Freeway
11. Car Windows
12. Car (skit)
13. Really Isn't Fair
14. Ran Out of Auto-Tune
15. Can't Get Enough
16. Answering Machine (skit)
17. Pimp Talk
18. Ready for Whatever
19. Do Ya Thing
20. Solo Break
21. Texas 4 Life
22. No Hate
[Intro]
9 million, 10 million, 11 million, keep goin'
Lets get it! It's Cooper
G-g-ghea
Mixtake messiah to you

[Chorus: Pimp C repeat 4X]
I got money
I got clothes
I got whips
I got

[Verse 1]
What if I said I was better than 50, Kanye, and Weezy
Would you believe me or would you be mad like I'm talkin' greezy
What if I said I was way better than all these little cheesy
Rappers on TV that really be makin' corny look easy
You (E-Z Breezy) cover girls get your nails done by (Tyra)
In the streets I'm on fire and that's until I retire
I'm out entitled the mayor say I'm the mixtape messiah
So you get fire than messin' none of you rappers for hire
I don't admire none of y'all, plus I feel like I'm greater
You wanna get served, I'm a waiter and bullets I got a platter
Anybody jump fly I turn to a demonstrator
Mayor label that pay you and manager ain't gonna save ya
Not just the best in my city, I'm like the best on the planet
I'm a god from above and the streets is just where I landed
Haters all on my nuts, but ain't no need to panic
That real estate is expanded because my nuts is gigantic

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
Blitz your chips, they get tackled - doin' it like its no hassle
Fourth and goal, but just know that I'm gonna be show boatin' after
If my career ever died then rest of y'all gonna be bastards
Because I fathered the baller rap style that y'all tryin' to master
Chamillionaire lost, you dummy how is you soundin'
SoundScan can't make my money, now I look like a mountain
Where the haters? I'm scoutin' 'cause I be lovin' the doubtin'
Just coordinate all the hatin' in start for my album
Don't mix business wit pleasure, I just mix money wit money
If I see Oprah oprachin' I bet she walk up in her ugly
It's like I stuffed 'em wit cotton, they see my pockets is chunky
Money is the root of all evil, they fill my pockets like Chucky
I'm gettin' rusty, I normally could make a thousand a minute
But I've been slippin' my numbers is somewhere down in (?)
We right back to the ground, they wanna hear the sound of me kill it
It's gonna sound like an inauguration in time when I get it, get it