— You know what's poppin'? I'm not fuckin' with you, man, you ain't have my money, not my connect not fuckin' wit' me! Get the fuck outta here!
— Nah-nah, yo, b, word to blood, yo, we got it poppin' right now. Me left in gate and, man, we just got Papi four brick and a half, b, I got everything I owe you and another half for you right now in the car, that's word, b.
— Right now?
— Right now, b.
— Good, good, good, good. Good, you got yo head in yo fuckin' shoulders, b.
— Yeah-yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about, nigga!
— Let me think, let me think. Now I can go and fuck it off. I'm goin' back to North Carolina, Durham and Greensborough, take care, take care with them, bummin' them niggas. Jimmy and Zeek is right now in Massachusetts. I'ma call ‘em, I'ma give you direction, take the bands, if you get lost, it's them own start, now I send ‘em direction, get you straight, you knahmean? Be careful, put that shit away, man, you knahmean, be careful, I love you, aiight? You good, call me on the cell if you got a problem.
[Chorus: Cam'ron]
Ayo, fuck losin' weight,
I'm back on these highways movin' cakes,
Life's based upon what I'ma do today:
Cop a car, new estate,
Nah, fuck it, get the beef and brocs: blue and gray.
Baby, due today
I gotta move an eighth,
Fuck the scrutiny,
Y'all niggas screwin' me,
Killa never let the drama slide,
Y'all gon hear a nigga momma die,
Yell out «homicide!»
[Verse 1: Cam'ron]
Eighteen months? Please, that ain't facin' time,
I'm stressed anyway, need it for vacation time,
I'ma do the right thing, though, take shock anyway,
Six months, right back on the damn block anyway.
But look, money from across the street,
Think it's sweet, think he get money across the street,
Me and my peeps often meet,
And five-o, they work for us, walk the beat,
Walk with heat ‘cause talk is cheap,
So, dunn, stay silent,
Revolvers, automatics, guns stay silent,
When it comes to beef, it becomes a talent,
Remember me, ODB, I'm the one from Violence.
Killa!
Digital ten, shit get critical, friend,
I got 800 invisible men,
That mean it could be the bankman,
Person at the gas station fillin' up your tank, fam,
Lady at the frank stand will
Rat poison your relish right in the center, babe,
Bitch is a renegade, she'll piss in your lemonade!
And y'all dead now,
That you can bet now,
Do like a toaster, put your bread down,
Upset now, hate when I gotta rap clowns, blow Tech rounds
In a collision, I see their ambition,
But they don't know them days I was stooped up and pitchin',
Or all them hot summers I was cooked up in the kitchen.
When it came to grams it was 90 I fried,
350 on the stove and it's 90 outside.
I'ma get this girl that be stuffin' my bricks,
Felt life cheated her, she be cuttin' her wrists,
Her mom died, heroin overdose stuffed in her wrist,
Father fuckin' her, older man fuckin' her sis,
But love my music, say I do nothing but hits,
She'll do anything for me, nothing but hits,
‘Cause when she needed help I got her nothing but fixed,
Needed coke, needed dope, yeah, I gave her a fix.
So she went across the street, gave him a kiss,
Stuck her toungue out, flirted, played with his dick,
«You know Cam?» He said, «Yeah.» «Don't play with his chips!»
Stood back, blazed through the 6, amazing and shit!
Killa, Killa! Dipset, nigga!
[Chorus: Juelz Santana]
Yo, fuck losin' weight,
We back on these highways movin' cakes,
Life's based upon what I'ma do today,
Take my moms, move away,
Yeah, I think I'ma cop me that new estate.
Baby, due today
I gotta move an eighth,
Fuck the scrutiny,
Y'all niggas screwin' me,
Juelz, never let the cops get me,
On the block till the shots hit me,
Until the shots get me.
[Verse 2: Juelz Santana]
Niggas wanna know why I'm so nice
When it comes to spittin' that fire,
It's real, dawg, I live in the fire,
Used to bein' in the streets, homie, in the midst of the fire,
Break work, put it in pots, sit it in fire,
Quick to grab the fifth and just fire,
Try to peel off, I'm hittin' your tires,
Hittin' your door while your car's spinnin', hittin' the wall,
That's just the beginning of war.
I let you know you dealin' with dogs,
My villains will finish you off,
Head in your chest, brain
Dead on the Van Wyck expressway,
While I got my hand on the TEC, wave,
Niggas like «Fuck, is he stupid?»
Cops wanna cuff me, do it,
You wanna be a hero, snuff me, do it, rush me, do it!
Shit, like I ain't been through the scars and bruises,
Like I ain't been through the bars, seen the sergeant troopers,
Look at my body, I lost so much weight,
Cops raidin' my spot, I done lost so much weight,
I'm tellin' Papi, «Front me a brick, let me owe that cake!»
He tellin' me he ain't got but so much weight,
He been waitin' for his connection to come,
I'm like, «At least give me a half, I'll compress it and stretch it to one.»
I'm on the block as usual
With that block that you choppin' the rocks as usual,
Watchin' for the cops that's movin' through,
Me and my soldiers know the rules,
We use cakes to get by, by the dudes in blue
Keep your mouth locked, screwed and glued,
Or shots from the Ruger, duke, will circle round your body like hula hoops.
Mami told me, “Son, hold your own,
And one day you're gon' grow to be a rolling stone.”
And I believed her.
Juelz, never let the cops get me,
On the block till the shots hit me.
[Chorus: Cam'ron]
Ayo, fuck losin' weight,
I'm back on these highways movin' cakes,
Life's based upon what I'ma do today:
Cop a car, new estate,
Nah, fuck it, get the beef and brocs: blue and gray.
Baby, due today
I gotta move an eighth,
Fuck the scrutiny,
Y'all niggas screwin' me,
Killa never let the drama slide,
Y'all gon hear a nigga momma die,
Yell out «homicide!»