(feat. Busta Rhymes)



[Cam'ron]

You the type to say I rap, I rhyme, look I freestyle

Rap is played out ain't shit here for free child

Me and Chris Lighty checks is what we see child

Ice won't get you sea sick bitch, it get you c now

Diplomat treat you like a beer bottle twist your cap

Hustler shit, you never sold a bit of crack

Chain you might get it snatched, down to the latch

Since I went to get it back yo what type of shit is that

Picture that, wrist is rapped 37 blunted

How many diamonds you got on? Shit 37 hundred

I'm stunting pissy popping by the bottle

Got nothing under the trench and I'm not from Colorado

Your acting a little like your rapping to riddles

Got Harlem looking like we a pack of skittles

I'm a tyko fanatic, phsyco sematic, 

type blow ?gamatic?, life go dramatic

Hydro's a habit bitch



[chorus: Busta Rhymes]

All my niggas who's ready to ride niggas, what what

All my soldiers and my living foul niggas, what what

money niggas, what what, thug niggas, what what, 

grimy niggas, whatwhat,

Big gun niggas, what what

All my bitches that's ready to wild with me, what what

And fuck a hole away in the ground with me, what what

Money bitches, what what, thug bitches, what what, 

corporate bitches, what what

All the above bitches



[Cam'ron]

Imagine a ho kissing me, a ho dissing me

No I can't have that, not from rottisearre

Roglissere, Gators so slippery

Best affiliated with the movie misery

I make you kids learn, when your car gone,

crib burned, Jim Jones shit permed like big Ern

And you speak that gang gang slang, 

gun like pop from BoomerangBang Bang Bang

That girl looking, you packing a whore, 

slapping a whore, foot sweppers slacking the door

Laughing for sure, yeah that shit happend before

Bitch flurting with me, her man tapping the jaw

What I'm drunk about, what I smoke skunk about

Hope you make it to that year Prince sung about

All these years dripping and ducking

Stay with birds the ones I was flipping and fucking

Ya heard

[chorus]