What Colour Is Soul

[Verse 1: Champtown] Get your rusty ass over 'fore I put a shine to it See man, it's man I trust so I'mma rhyme to it 20% out of a hundred groups are mediocre They took a medicine effect and I'm a pretty choker So once you got a couple microphones well I'mma rep 'em You got some Nile rapper rivers too, well I'mma check 'em! Because they new to this, I'm true to this! They shouldn't be doin' this A lot of rappers reppin' keepin' miles is a few in this Game, to maintain, I keep it going on You hear the guitar and the funky beat I'm flowin' on I don't tell 'em when I see it, I just spot it Just runnin' me, have soul and ain't the only person got it And blacks don't have to act white if they like Red Hot Chili Peppers And whites dont have to act black if they like Salt-n-pepa Cause I like a lot of people [?] mucus on the [?] So I'm Blackened like Metallica, look at me in shock But nothing, else matters wherever I may roam The microphone's my best friend and the stage is my home Our music got the sounds, our rhythms got the hooks I listen to Kenny Rogers, Marvin Gaye and Garth Brooks I listened to that [?] that's [?] and [?] But music is good music, the other, is mess The [?] you chocolate and a peppermint What color is my soul? Here's a hint: let's hook 'em [Hook: Champtown, Chaos Kid, Eminem] Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Now open 'em up, even the best eyes squint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Now open 'em up, even the best eyes squint [Verse 2: Chaos Kid] We're up in it, up in it, and way, hi ho! It's over when I don't get on the tip of the stickity sterile If you want to high roll Some people are comin' the [?] road, why though? With my soul, it's deep enough to shake [?] My oh my! [?] someone touches a bottle The albino brothers steppin' 'em up, we'll wake your [?] Yeah, I think I'm enough to rhyme so [?] look like a [high-boat?] I don't play around, we'll run and get the five'o, wait Hold up! They don't, hold back To just roll up, they cut no slack You better step up to bat, or please get a hobby Cause even a videotape can bring them [?] to rob me Or IV, I'll put your chest [?] to the point its futile Get back on your [?] noodle So you will understand that you won't have the upperhand when You think I may getting brutal The America to Bootle To get the zoom, zam, the zip for the rip For the kid who had to trip my tint It's as simple as A-B-Cs and as easy as pie But is it never to be as intuitive as the question "why?" Bullets try to inflictin' pain [?] [?] shade of soul, huh [?] skills they haven't even thought about yet But when I [?] they act as if my color soft as my step [?] But don't call me Vanilla Ice, Serato or Kid Rock And grip with the [cold super missile?] Roundabout Cause' I'm so down, I'm out [Hook: Champtown, Chaos Kid, Eminem] Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Now open 'em up, even the best eyes squint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Now open 'em up, even the best eyes squint [Verse 3: Eminem] Shit, there ain't idiots bad as the fattest skinniest Sick with a little rapper to never battle, little, piddle or paddle the prettiest Dumb fuck, lookin' for the hats or suck a numb Or jackin' jeans keep your hangin' nuts tucked And I'm about to take my look up it, up in a book Plus I'm almost on the top of the booty pull that coppin' a district shit See you're just barkin up tha wrong tree Cause I got diarrhea, myamia, I uh be a fuckin' honkey So bad on the mic gotta make ya titterid kid retell what tha fuck I'm saying He just talk, but neva the type babbadababa they think they shits so poppa hipty I'd imagine if I were to put up a zipper to the mic i'd be able to do a lip-sync Because I rap in this muthafucker there's gotta be a certain rhyme this microphone stick, what the fuck i'll hoist it around inside my home And the DJ better stick up like a rocket Cause he could scratch on a fucked up a pool table with 27 pockets Buttafingaz scratches like a girly fight But if our color matters, take no less than pearly whites But I’m hardcore like rocks in a tomato Gettin' skinned like I was boxing a potato I wouldn't suck on the mic if it was shaped like a nipple I done made lots'a money so I'm good if i make like a nickel But I'm out cold like a snowstorm So I got nuts so fat, it'll keep my toes warm (Hit) [Hook: Champtown, Chaos Kid, Eminem] Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Now open 'em up, even the best eyes squint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Close your eyes and try to guess my tint Now open 'em up, even the best eyes squint