Cam'ron

Cam'ron - Chalupa songtekst

Je score:

[Verse 1]

Yo this flow here is bulimics, anemic, yo red beam it

Plus I got it on, you aint never seen it, never seen it

Some people say I'm conceited, but dougie I never cheated

Oh boy you'll get deleted, believe it, I could achieve it cuz look



Im on a Yamaha, laughing like ha ha ha 

Na na na, want to talk, shots speak ra ra ra

Crib is like mardigra, no beads grow weed

Court case, courtside, nigga in the nose bleeds



OG, Goatee, proceed, whole Ki's

Sorta like a janitor, stay within a parameter

Niggas got the hammer bra, don't care about a camera

Could they put that dress off, first like grand ma ma



Hope you got the stamina, because niggas be on worst

Blow reefa, no sneaker, thought this was a converse

I told baby girl damn that's a hard purse

But you gotta get it in flavors girl like starburst



[Chorus]

We counting money, yo doggie we couting money

Yo shit aint even funny, but look at we counting money

Yo stupid up on the stoope, the game is in a stoope 

Cuz look we get chalupa, cha cha cha cha cha cha chalupa love



[Verse 2]

Winter time, I'm heated why they frigid

Lenox ave boy working with 8 digits

Summer time came through in our may blizzaards

Old ladies looking like damn they did it



Cuz huh, I got to forty fifth just to get a snack box

2 piece, apple pie, feds taking snap shots

they know I'm known for hot rims, fast drops

big trucks, big jewels, whys from the have nots



now every pocket on my clothing dawg, have knots

10, 20, 30, 40, 50 thousand; jack pot

call my block gravel, (why) its mad rocks

im the owner of the team, fuck the mascot



sucking mad cock, 650 rag top

damn, don't get hit with the jab that my dad got

yall sasquatch, put it on your laptop

yo not a door, but yessir its pad locked



[Chorus]



[Verse 3]

We do the interstate, baby where the state patrol

With 50lbs, and I aint talking bout an eight year old

It can take a toll, hoping you can get parole

Play your role, the heat is so hot it can make you cold



And they say ima son of a bitch

Why, cuz I be with your son and your bitch

You don't deserve her, your fair we wont hurt her

We taught her to be a squirter, your sons about murder



Your brother well he my worker, your sister well she my slurper

Your mom her ass is fat, my niggas they call her bertha

Once a week they might server her, with dick they gon serve her

Now she whining like a baby, well maybe we'll get her gerber



Smack her on her ass, warm milk, then we burp her

Yeah we left her nurtured, but well earth her, before we chirp her

You'll be a punching bag, fam well put our beats on her

Or the Klu klux, white sheet on her



or Miami jersey put the heat on her  

Or a door mate I'm gone put my feet on her

Creep on em, leap on em

yeah park the jeep on em



Americas most wanted, with no warrant!



[Chorus]




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Taal: Engels

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