Chamillionaire - Scratch That Lyrics

[** Chillin by Wale (Instrumental):]

[Verse 1: ~Chamillionaire~]
Uh, I heard there was a funeral for Auto-Tune
I'm glad that I'm livin, some of y'all is doomed
Talkin 'bout death, I'd be honored to
Death of DJs yellin over all the tunes
Thought he was the man but that boy a coon
And I'm so street smart they call me "Harvard Goon"
Mixtape Messiah 8 is what y'all assume
But scratch that, better take cover, dodge the boom! (yeah)
{explosion}
Gotta kill it like Michael, not Jackson but Vick (why?)
Get punished for the crime, have 'em still on my dick
I'm so Pharreal with this thing on my hip (yep)
Pusha and a Malice, yeah I got me two Clipse (Clipse)
Lookin for some trouble, you can have your first wish
I'd take your house, have your kitchen on bricks (woo!)
No banana in the tailpipe Miss (nah)
Pullin my money and it's never no splits
Whips what you mean, I could be a slave master
Hundred for the Benz but the 'lac is way faster
(College) dropout like I never heard Asher
I don't need your opinion if I ain't ask ya
Make 'em remember they asthma
Ladies want to practice, I make 'em play tackle (tackle)
Chill out, what ya hidin from the drop for?
Lookin for some ice baby, welcome to Alaska
(N Luv Wit My Money), I'm just tryin to kiss stacks (yep)
Tryin to date mine, I'm a tell the chick tax (yep)
Million dollar mack, have your mama on her back
Tap Tap for Revenge like the iPhone app (ha)
King of mixtapes, let 'em know that that's fact
I'm fittin to run rap, mess around and get lapped (lapped)
Round of applause for ya if I get jacked
I bet ya hear claps comin out the kid's strap (woo!)
Everytime they see me, they just call me "hachoo"
'Cause every verse sick enough to give ya that flu (flu)
Every stack I'm pickin up thick as Ragu
I'm pullin up in my dropper, they like "Koopa, that's you?"
True, I just want my clout to last
And they say that money talks, so I'm talkin fast (fast)
Promise my vault is like Alcatraz
Ya break in, you're never gonna make it out with cash
Could get money out of Pamela Anderson (what?)
And her son, I'm the man with funds (funds)
Give me your account, let me manage one
I'm a gon' clean it out until the damage done
Let me be clear (yeah), no antenna
Hundred thou' stacks, that's a big man dinner
Pull up outside on some big chrome spinners
Hop out just to show you how quick I can get scrilla