Текст песни Internet Nerds Argue (Chamillionaire) с переводом

Sup, Charlie? Sup, man?

Nothin', chillin', watchin' 'Makin' The Band'

Dude, your mother’s makin' somethin'

That smells wonderful, man, yeah, Happy New Year, man

Man, I didn’t have anywhere to go

So I’d just figured I bring my sleepin' bag over an'

You wanna do some net surfin'?

Yeah, sounds like a date, I mean that’d be great

Ha, ha, cool

I’m on All-hip-hop dot com, it’s the end of the year

Chamillionaire got one of the best mixtapes upon here

Maybe I’m hallucinatin' or the screen isn’t clear

I click on every link on him an' never like what I hear

I just hope he disappears

I hope he disappears too

Matter fact I hope a grave is where he disappears too

Tell me, how come you don’t like him?

Naw, I don’t like him 'cause you don’t like him

How 'bout we post it all over the net? I’ll do the typin'

He drops his new songs, the DJ’s don’t drop bombs

They don’t even notice him on This-Is-50 dot com

50, he’s one of the greats, Chamillionaire is not one

Make it look like suicide, he just slid his watch on

Ha, ha, that would be great, plus his album’s droppin' late

When his Venom album drops, I’m gon' rub it in his face

I think he should ask God for forgiveness like he’s Mase

'Cause his 'Mixtape Messiah' series' the mixtapes that I hate

I hear he’s droppin' part eight

No, he’s not, he’s on seven

All these mixtapes he’s droppin' is really gettin' upsettin'

I saw it on his Myspace

Man, who the heck you tellin'?

I was on his Myspace 'cause I was just about to get him, man

Get him?

Yeah, chill, why the heck you yellin'?

I was only on his page so I can see how much he sellin'

Well, why the heck he sellin'? They’re supposed to be free

Anyone who buys anything from him’s a dummy

Yeah, all he ever talks about is candy paint an' money

An' how is kickers in his trunk, kick it like it’s Chung Lee

How he gotta keep it Triller like Pimp C an' Bun B

An' his alligator seats, they were caught by Dundee

How the heck you know his lyrics man, what are you, a dweep?

Man, please, I hardly even know my ABC’s

All he does is motivate me to try to get the G’s

Every other rapper raps about how they got eighty keys

An' that’s more appealin' to me than his chatter

Man, what’s your mom cookin'?

Man, it don' even matter

Why the heck you gettin' mad if you sayin' it doesn’t matter?

Actin' like a little girl who just got beaten an' battered?

'Cause I’m really startin' to think that you’re an undercover fan

Not a undercover nothin', I’m a over-cover Stan

I call the station up an' try to get his records, man

Well okay, I believe you an' my mother’s makin' Spam

Man, damn, why you don’t have no Christmas cheer?

Christmas already done passed, plus the Grinch lives here

You don’t like who I’m a-like, then you can disappear

Take your purple iPod an' get up out my chair

You’ll, you just mad 'cause Soulja Boy kilt is here

Soulja Boy ain’t gonna run hip-hop this year, you queer

Soulja Boy got a cartoon

Do I look like I care?

He gets paid by YouTube

Do you think that’s fair?

I don’t care if you’re mad or not, I’m hopin' that Aster Roth

Drops somethin' that’s hot enough to knock Eminem’s album off

You shouldn’t even talk, you’re makin' me wanna puke

Keep mentionin' people that I think are really just a fluke

Stop, they’ll never reach the top, I’m not havin' it

That’s one hot album every never year’s averagin'

Wait for Charles Hamilton, tell me who’s gon' damage him

What’chu mean Charles Hamliton? Who the heck’s Charles Hamilton?

Dude, I told you but you must have forgot

Crooked I’s gonna come out an' take everyone’s spot

Everyone is gonna flop when Aftermath is on top

Just stop, Eminem an' Doctor Dre won’t drop

Charlie, please, you’re a dweep, you’re not even in the streets

You’re not in the streets either 'cause you’re always here with me

Yeah, but at least I got homies that know me in the streets

An' they know who Joe Buddens is an' Joel Ortiz

Who?

Royce 5'9 an' little more Kanyee’s

I thought you said you didn’t like album’s with rappers try’na sing

I never told you such a thing, I never told you such a thing

I listen to T-Pain

No, you don’t, man, please

What’cha mean? I never said that, that’s not true

I’m on SOHH dot com more than you

I’m on Hip-hop-D-X

Man, I’m on Baller Status

Ooh, I’m on Nah-Right dot com an' that’s to just to name a few

That’s the only thing you do, you’re a stand' for Lil Wayne

Man, Charlie, you’re lame, you don’t even know a thang

We were on hip-hop game the other night, you didn’t complain

(Ahh, both of ya’ll shut up)

Ah, mother, you’re insane

(Are you talkin' back to mommy? Put food in your tummy)

Man, why I gotta eat mom? I’m not even hungry

Man, I am

I’m surfin' on the net, wait a sec, I’ll be there

Look here

Wait, you act like you can’t hear

(Boy, don’t you make me embarrass you, dear)

Mom, stop' please, you’re hurtin' my ear

(Come here)

Ahh, ah