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Popa Chief
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Churnin Cream
* Allah Real provides background vocals
[Chorus:Popa Chief] Churnin' cream, til I make butter Going to be a millionaire, I didn't stutter Got, places to go, people to see, money to get Parties to crash, mics to rip, hoes to hit Niggas across town, it's about to get flipped All around the world, it's the same old shit
[Popa Chief] Since mo' sicks to my nigs, we out of here On the tour around the world, for a whole year When we get back, bank accounts on phat Burnt Biskut products, take like that Dope on CD's and tapes, as well as in the flesh My raps is like sex, they relieve stress Make you feel gooder than a conjugel visit Knock-knock, who is it? The black wizard of 2G's Brainstorming, bread stacking What ya'll know about, rice and lima beans Bo-bo sneaks and, no-name jeans No cream, no bleem on a daily basis I thought I'd reach the finish line, it's just an oasis Got burnt, that's when I learned you gotta crumble with the crisis I took a vow to get rid all of my devices And always sell my product at reasonable prices Got up off the benches, brought me twin monkey wrenches Some like 'em blue, some like 'em black, some like 'em crunk Find out what I got, you violate my wig whoa I'm not to be fucked with, not my seeds or my duckes If so, it's gonna be hell to pay, more than another bitch suck Don't make me super soak you with the stainless steamer And do my get away in the seven fifty L beemer Acurate when I shoot, I'm in route, to the new to hold loot Nothing but the loot, so help the loot Peace to my disfunctional group Of off the hook troops, a thousand Timb boots Romping, stomping, all the way to the bank Make a check-out to cash, and leave the rest blank... my foul stank
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