Lyrics Ain't Gotta Go Home - Chamillionaire
[Intro]
We
have
the
elegant
styles
of
Chamillitary...
hmm?
what?
We
have
the
elegant
styles
of
the
Chamillitary
Band
On
the
bass
drum
you
have
the
elegant
Bose
the
Bobo
"The
Big
Face
Spender",
and
on
the
bass
guitar
you
have
Tanto
"The
Human
Beer
Blender"
Give
it
up
for
Justo′s
Dirty
South
DJ
of
the
Year
I'm
sure
y′all
know
the
scratch
patterns
of
uhhh...
Uhhh...
OG
Ron
C
aka
"The
Jills
in
my
Shills"
oh!,
you
on
fire
baby
So
as
we
get
on
to
the
proceedings
this
evening,
it's
yours
truly...
Chamillitary
mayne
[Chorus
- singing]
You
ain't
gotta
go
home
(you
ain′t
gotta
go)
But
you
gotta
get
the
hell
up
outta
here
If
you
got
someone
(somebody)
Then
go
get
you
a
room
at
The
Holiday
Inn
You
ain′t
got
no
one
(nobody)
Than
go
have
some
fun
by
yourself
(ohhh
yeaaah)
But
whatever
you
do
Don't
let
the
door
knob
hit
you
on
the
way
out
[Verse
1]
Niggaz
was
throwin′
rocks
at
the
thrown
and
I
got
word
of
that
The
sequel
to
The
Messiah?
For
what,
I
already
murdered
that
Niggaz
hatin'
on
me
but
look
at
′em,
the
nerve
of
that
Nigga
this
ain't
this
type
of
beef
you
can′t
take
the
burger
back
Burn
it
back,
into
my
pocket
I'm
tryin'
to
stop
it
Unless
your
mouth
keeps
leakin′
Dick
back
in
your
socket
How
does
it
feel,
to
know
you
wasted
your
whole
lifetime
Livin′
your
whole
lifetime
just
to
worry
'bout
mine
Gimmick
niggaz
was
dissin′
me,
he
was
fake
they
was
missin'
me
Came
to
replace
and
make
history,
B
I
made
′em
history
You
could
feel
like
you
real
because
that
feeling
Eventually
gonna
shrivel
up
when
reality
turns
it
into
misery
You
niggaz
is
killin'
me
with
your
wannabe
me′s
You
a
artist,
we
bosses
the
one's
that
fund
the
CD's
All
you
gonna-be,
wannabe,
gonna
punish
me
please
You
got
me
laughin′,
I′m
askin'
if
niggaz
wanna
be
Steve
Harvey,
no
your
hardly,
funny
at
all
*Runnin′
the
Game*
not
at
all,
homie
your
runnin'
your
jaw
We
grown
folks,
kiddie
schoolers
need
to
go
run
up
the
hall
Nigga′s
borin',
just
ignore
′em
and
the
dummy
will
fall
My
brother
is
my
descendant,
we
runnin'
a
mile
a
minute
Hut,
hut!
it's
time
to
win
it,
I′ll
see
you
behind
the
finish
If
you
get
there,
quit
there
Got
your
swisha
lit
player?
Blow
smoke
in
the
air
for
the
Color
Changin′
Click,
chea...
{*applause*}
[Chorus]
[Verse
2]
Ladies
and
gentlemen,
homie
must
be
on
heroine
Victory
for
me,
but
he
thought
he
would
have
the
narrow
win
My
aim
is
to
blam',
when
I
load
it
inside
the
barrel
And
put
the
third
eye
on
him
and
do
a
little
more
than
stare
at
him
Poet,
I
know
it
I′m
mister
modern
day
Shakespeare
I'm
a
writer,
survivalist;
what
it
is?
It
ain′t
fear
The
absolute
truth
is
just
something
some
niggaz
can't
hear
He
don′t
live
here
no
mo',
he
got
convicted
he
ain't
here
How
the
heck
you
set
fiction
on
a
table,
put
truth
aside
What
you
speakin′
my
nigga,
you
can′t
look
me
into
my
eyes?
The
good
Lord
spoke
the
truth
and
that
just
got
him
Crucified,
y'all
scared
of
the
sharp
dagger
Your
tradin′
your
truth
for
lies
Look
me
in
my
eyes,
nevermind
I
ain't
tryin′
to
spook
ya
Voice
of
the
present,
the
past,
yup
I'm
the
future
Soon
as
you
speak
the
truth
all
the
hater′ll
try
to
Mute
ya,
but
if
you
the
truth
arbitrators
will
call
ya
Koopa
Martin
Luther
King
Koopa
Many
of
'em
will
listen,
but
if
you
can't
take
the
Heat
than
get
ya
hot
ass
out
the
kitchen
I
heard
words
from
Makaveli
ridin′
was
the
ambition
So
I
bomb
first
on
fake
niggaz
like
I′m
in
his
position
"Aye
Chamillion
you
trippin'",
nuh-uh
I′m
handling
business
Raise
my
hand
to
the
man
and
my
right
hand
as
my
witness
I
got
a
fo'
to
the
fizzle
that′s
sure
to
damage
your
Fitness,
but
it
ain't
really
even
that
serious
to
tan
ya
with
stitches
P
you
actin′
suspicious,
you
know
me
better
than
that
If
it
was
for
a
false
reason
I
would
never
react
But
you
know
me
better
than
rap,
niggaz
was
tellin'
me
fact
So
you
could
miss
me
with
publicity
if
they
tellin'
me
that,
never
that...
{*applause*}
[Talking]
Thank
you,
thank
you
I
appreciate
the
support
Everyone
please
take
your
seats,
I′m
not
done...
There′s
more...
[Verse
3]
In
this
world
of
falsifying
where
niggaz
be
claimin'
they
real
Turn
around
and
tell
you
a
lie
′bout
what
he
paid
on
his
grill
Same
nigga
that
talk
big
'bout
what
he
made
on
his
deal
The
same
that
ask
me
for
advice
like
"They
don′t
pay
me
Chamill'"
Rappers
ain′t
really
real
only
a
few
of
'em
ball
Pissy
colored
diamonds
yup
I'm
one
of
the
few
of
′em
y′all
Talkin'
about
yo′
piece
and
chain
and
a
few
lil'
cars
Four
thousand
to
five
thousand
for
what
you
do
as
a
star
But
keepin′
money
in
the
vault
is
the
hardest
part
of
the
art
Knowledge
got
my
crew
smart
even
when
my
crew
is
apart
"Chamillionaire
you
did
'em
wrong,
why
don′t
you
get
a
heart?"
If
I
showed
it
to
you
would
you
see
what
it
could
do
in
the
dark
Whether
you
like
it
or
not
don't
really
matter
to
me
'Cause
most
of
the
love
I
normally
keep
inside
my
family
tree
So
you
can
gossip
′bout
what
really
happened
with
Hatta
and
me,
or
you
can
gossip
how
so
and
so
way
better
than
me
It
don′t
really
matter
to
me,
because
I'm
done
with
it
now
The
maturity
level
that
I′m
at
isn't
even
fun
for
a
child
So
set
your
mouse
pad
on
the
internet
and
punish
my
style
Or
set
your
Reeboks
on
the
streets
of
Houston
runnin′
me
down
It's
whatever
I
been
better
at
provin′
a
nigga
wrong
Tell
Goliath
I
don't
need
rocks
to
prove
a
lil'
nigga
strong
So
tell
Watts,
forgive
me
I′m
groovin′,
I'm
in
my
zone
Property
of
Mike
who?
He
ain′t
here
that
little
nigga
gone
{*applause*}
Attention! Feel free to leave feedback.