Ghostface Killah - The Champ lyrics

This guy is a bulldozer with a wrecking ball
Attached he’ll leave a ring around your eye
And tread marks on your back he’s an
Animal, he’s hungry you ain’t been hungry
Since Supreme Clientele remember what you
First told me when I
Took ya in you wanted to be a fighter
(yeah) you wanted to be a killer (New York
Stand up) you wanted to be the Champ!
(Got your boy in the
Booth, nigga) you ain’t hungry matter
Of fact I don’t want
You in my gym get out of my ring
You disgust me… just Blaze!

Godzilla bankroll, stones from Sierra Leone
Yo I ain’t got it all
That means I’m barely home
Trailblazer stay balling with vengeance
My arts is crafty darts
Why y’all stuck on Laffy Taffy?
Wondering, how did y’all niggas get past me?
I been doing this before
Nas dropped the Nasty
My Wallos I did ‘em up
Them bricks I sent ‘em up
My raps y'all bit ‘em up
For that now stick ‘em up
10-4 good buddy, Tone got his money up
Worth millions
Still bag your bitch looking bummy what
Y‘all staring at the angel of death
Liar liar pants on fire
You burning up like David Koresh
This is architect music, verbal street opera
Pop a Tec mad fluid
Got the projects booming indeed
I ran through the Tunnel, terrorized speed
That’s when I was still in the jungle
Slinging that D

Bell rings Get out my face! No you
Ain’t got no mo? Don’t need no
Has been messin’ up my corner and you
Better get that mad look off
Your face for I knock it off hey fool
You ready for another beating
You should have never came back look
Here man after I crucify him
You next! And you better have a good doctor
To rearrange your face i’m the Champ!

Who want to battle the Don?
I’m James Bond in the Octagon with two razors
Bet y’all didn’t know I had a fake arm
I lost it, wild and raw before rap
I was gettin’ it on
Took a fat nigga out in like 40 seconds
My gun get hard wit a 45 steel erection
Eagle on, Kangol half-slanted
Coconut Ballys from Morocco
Guerilla medallions like Flavor Flav clock
Yo niggas want me dead but they
Scared to step to me
Rip they guts out like a hysterectomy
When beef collide look on the
Flip by the penitentiary kite
Or get you bumped off from the inside
Jaws is hanging
Frauds is left in they draws
On the floor complaining
Bird ass nigga resemble Keenan Ivory Wayans
Stay in your place dirt poor rappers
Get shadow boxed for training
Y'all still eating bacon

Bell rings Think nobody can don’t
Give this sucker no statue
Give him death i told y’all
I wasn’t going away
You had your shot no give
Me mine now why don’t
You tell these folks why you been ducking me
Politics man you think you going to
Keep me down they don’t
Want me to have the title
Because I’m not a puppet
Like that fool up there ask
His woman she get more
Pipe from the plumber than in
Bed i’m the Champ!

I’m like the deuce of diamonds cutting
Spades on a glass table
Half a mil’ on my left ankle
Terrycloth Guess shorts, robes is comfortable
Bring me a nice bitch
That means I’ll fuck with you
My swagger is Mick Jagger, stones is rolling
Prestige is cut to a T
Spark when weed went up
The coca leaf is slightly damp
Sprouting in the backyard next to
Gram Dukes’ tomato plants
And jets get chartered
Marquee shit with the cars on it
The haters, they earl
Run to the toilet and vomit
Back East, I’m a MC king since Cuban
Pretty Tone, Iron Man
Bulletproof and Supreme
Kufi on, double deuce in the jeans
My man shape was on the
Floor with the mother lode
Both of them green
IBF, WBC, cruiserweight, title shots
And rap belts belong to DC listen, I am bad
I said I am bad i’m a bad man i’m
So bad sometimes I’s scare myself sometimes I
Look in the mirror and want to kiss myself
I’m so pretty now who am I?
(The man) Now who am I? (The man) Who? (The
Man) That’s right and don’t y’all forget it
Ladies and gentlemen! the winner
By consecutive knockout
And still champion of the world
(Ghost… face… Killah)
Cheering in the background