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- Singer Intro
Cam'ron( Cameron Ezike Giles )
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That's Me
Lyricist:Cameron Giles, Edward Jr Hinson
I'm not going to sit here and watch this go on any longer You know they put my food in the dark And then expect me to look for my plate on some Mr. Magoo shit Fuck, I look like, I'm not going to watch this go on any longer
I'm on y'all Harlem, who else is going to hold us down Bloodshed niggas Let's get it right this time around, understand, killer
Yo, I don't understand how these cats sip Daqueri's Like it's all good down at the hit factory Be on fifty-fourth, whole clique backing me All that click clackery, take your wrist wrappery
I ain't no rapper, B, I skeet oozies And I can't act, turned down three movies So gimme your chain, your jewels and your cash And your fast food, I'll eat your food fast
My rude ass, carry three weapons And I'll give your face a C section and keep stepping Who else in a hurry to mirk We kill girls, rape 'em, bury their skirts
Imagine me wake up 7:30 for work, what? I'd rather run the streets 7:30 with work But met this knucklehead, thought he want a order Came and asked me, stop pitching to his daughter
Said me, it's the man, can't be Be glad I'm not in her damn panties Got her damn handy How you going to ever ask, stop carrying candy
I'm a sell to anybody in your damn family Uncle Tom, your Aunt Tammy, your Grandmammy Your right hand man, Randy, understand me In Antlanta, I got an outlandish land piece And a matching land, Desert Calasandi
You know the one with the whips, that's me The one with the chips and the chips, that's me The one with the toast, pants baggy, yelling out get at me Get at me, nigga, that's me
The one that be running and dodging, you The one that be sucking mad dick, you The one that's scared of some yay yo Always wanna lay low 'cause your girl say so, you, biatch
I could show you some ice Throw you a bite You not that good dog, who told you you're nice Your crew, switch siders
When I come through, hey, Cam Dick riders But I only mess with Navigators five twenty-eight Six drivers, big buyers, where you live, we live liver
Come through, stick your suppliers Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com Mack so many hoes, dick in saliva Gash her up, ma, put it on you mouth Then I grab her neck and try to take her tonsils out
And I don't got beef, I don't play those games If I did though, believe me, I would say y'all names Go to your house, red dot, scope your crib Smack your earth, snatch your seeds, choke your wiz
My crew split, it was my mistake But to my nigga, Duke, we all make mistakes I'm a get shit right if I spend my cake Jimmy, I'm a get you up out of 5 H
This is for my niggas that load the pipe Saying I'm the best, just not promoted right You know my life Drink, smoke, roll some dice
Control the hiest Know I'm a patrol your schiest We all get schiest Ma, keep all your rice
Wedding ring, hell no I like all my ice Niggas tried to make Killa Cam all polite Turn on the set now, bitch, I'm like poltergiest
You the type talk about everything you got now I interrupt you like, 'Not now, you hot owl' My rings like a dog, all rock wild When I flash it, everybody shocked, 'Wow!'
I see y'all concerned about me You ain't got to go to school to learn about me
Yo, the one with mad guns, that's me The one with the yay for twenty-three, that's me The one with the ice, sliced, coke half price Yoke that's nice, that's me
The one that's scared of a scuffle, you The one that say, 'Baby girl, I love you' you The one that talk about hustling, never seen a oven You all about nothing, you biatch
Told you I got us this time around niggas Feeling me some, huh Harlem, I got us nigga
Santana, Freaky Zeeky, Jim Jones, Salty Feshon, run with us or run from us or get run the fuck over It's fuck us, so fuck y'all
Killa biatch Killa bitch Killa bitch
Killa bitch Killa bitch Killa bitch
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