I found these lyrics on Lyricloop
Mixtape Messiah August 27th. Put that on yo' calendar.
It's Chamillionaire, I mean Koopa; aka Major Pain. Cause
I'm gonna bring the majors pain. Mixtape master of the underground.
They ask me where Texas at, and I say hold that thought;
August 27th I'm a get to that.
You either die a hero or you live to see yourself become the villan.
I've been showin' support to all the labels in my city.
Bur right now it's all about Chamilli.
When they see me do my magic, they say what the heck is Koopa on?
Texas been too quiet so that X-man about to produce a storm.
Either die a hero or the villain is what you become. Hop in my bat mobile,
Cha cha [? ] on? Salad dressing cus it's on. Plenty green and parmesan.
In my pockets, in my palm. I'm about to drop a bomb. Thinkin about making
Vegetation, I'm the mixtape farmer John. So much green inside my jeans, it's like
I been a mowin' lawns. I'm the real, the rest is fake. I'm the best, the rest is Cake.
Mixtape god, I bless the tape. And I put boys in they resting place.
People always test the type and they don't neva test the face. That's the day I'm gonna be on tmz and that day I catch a case. Think that you can take my auto and them hollows not gon' follow. Better dream of a bikini wearing genie out a bottle. Some chicks, they used to strip; asked to wax the Masserato. I say forget the wax, just make it quick just like [? ]. That Spanish chick that love the chips she do that Dorito lady. She ready to Frito lay me, es me gusto that's me oh baby.
I hear some sharks talkin' like they gonna D. O. A. Me. Go ahead jump in that water, promise there's torpedo's waiting. I dropped a lot of verses, but I know I'm proud of mines. I see the president's in front of me, I'm Obamatized. Rappers is politicians, they all be talking lies. Paparazzi like some Nazi. Pop your posse like some spies.
I used to look around me like it's prolly you that hate me. Now open up my wallet and it start illuminating. Do your damage, do it. Talk your talk and mutilate me. Money talks, Me and Ben always communicating. I know you prolly thankin why he talking all that cash. I write my lyrics in a crib as big as [? ]. What's happy broke but supa rich and they like boy he mad. Every problem I had last year, my money brought me all of that.
[? ]Push foreigns like a chauffer [? ] But back when I was broka, I sold product like a broker. My next one drop, it's over. Point out somebody dopa. I bet that supasoaka flip that joka like it's Poka. That boy ain't half of me, turned into a casualty. Humble but I swear I'm not Barak Obama's pastasy[? ]. I bet talking trash, yeah the mouth is a catastrophe. Don't mistake the humbleness for wewakness cus that blasphemy.