Cam’ron - Harlem Streets lyrics

Killa! (Killa) , Dipset, man
Ayo you know I've been all
Over the motherfucking world, man
But ain't no place like Harlem, man
Let me break it down, man

We tie dynamite to the rhino type
Wino might find yo' sight
Sell the information for a dime of white
That China-China i'm behind the diner
Selling marijuana to a minor-miner
Elder fella looking for that
Shine? I'll shine ya
My mind designer you a dime? I'll dine ya
Madonna momma, body bottled
You're fine i'm finer
Time to climb her, climb behind vagina
Then I hymen-grind her 'til
Her mom remind her
Diamonds blind her vision's gone
Kiss her palm turn her arm, lift her arm
Notice that her wrists is raw
"Gotta get it right ma, we gon' get along"
Said "how?" "don't trip, " but, yo
The trick is wrong
First visi-on, day job tick-a-tron
Nighttime, Mr mom, bootleg Cris' and Dom
Brother Chris and Don, and their sister Carm
They sell yay', you'll say "yay
This shit's the bomb"
I'ma hit my man, tell 'em you my pick upon
The rest, so yes
You'll be blessed to hit the intercom
You know, kiss his mom
She gave him wisdom charm
And their father come from a
Long list of dons and I get it cheaper
I cop bricks like sneakers
And if the cops come, I just hit amnesia
But I give you an earful, it's tearful
Told my mother I hustle and
She said "be careful"

Why I feel like I'm losing weight?
Why I ain't got no money
If I'm moving weight?
My life's based upon what I'ma do this year
Cop a boat, cop a Lear
Now the army suit's cute
With my chocolate Airs
You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair
Still the scrutiny, nothing they can do to me
I made sure my mother and
Girl is smothered in pearls
When a nigga under the world (Killa)

Everybody like, "Cam got the recipe now!"
Not them 3 girls, I got to be Destiny's Child
(gotta be me)
Specially equities, reckon we smile
Interfere, tech to tech and use
The TEC that we wile
Detective deceptive, receptive of fouls
Hectic, Heckler & Koch
Helicopters on the set of my sales
Nah, I ain't gonna be embedded in jail
Talking to a cellmate in a bed in a jail, dog
I broke bread with the whale
Fled from some seals (what else?)
And the house, I was the head of the hills
Shit you get a dumb ho, and get dumb happy
Go to the gun show, get gun happy
(who are we?) stuck, killed, mugged, milled
Tone, flint, sticks, bo, Chub's milk
(what up, y'all)
Pucci baba, but I got the hardest shells
We the Midwest gun cartel, nigga (nigga)
Ya, we'll just clap up your brains
Snatch up your chains see dog? Rap is my aim
But I'm a hustler, in my heart
Trapped is the game
Attached to my frame, tapped to my brain
The fact still remains: It wasn't rap
It was crack that got the racks on the Range
Look dog, don't be asking for Dame, see
Playboy, I don't own that man
And anyway, homeboy, you a grown-ass man
Shit and when I rap it ain't no punchline
(not at all)
I be on the highway dirty, crunch time
No timeouts homeboy, just one time
If they find that stash box just one time
Shit, they'll put the dogs in the truck
Side of the road, holding you up
You cold as a fuck
They want that button, lunge it and push it
Soon as they lunge it and push it
I run in the bushes that's how I play mine
Jump over the grapevine
Take my chances one-on-one with the K9
Steel and a clip for
Anyone squealing they lips
Fuck y'all if y'all ain't feeling the Dips
(Killa, Killa)

Why I feel like I'm losing weight?
Why I ain't got no money
If I'm moving weight?
My life's based upon what I'ma do this year
Cop a boat, cop a Lear
Now the army suit's cute
With my chocolate Airs
You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair
Still the scrutiny, nothing they can do to me
I made sure my mother and
Girl is smothered in pearls
When a nigga under the world (Killa)