Children of the Corn - American Dream lyrics

[Children of the Corn - American Dream lyrics]

Ugh, ugh, ugh, yeah
The NFL Crew and the Children of the Corn
Comin' straight from Money-Makin' Manhattan
AKA harlem, the home of the hustlas
You know how we do, yeah

Yo, crooked corrupt criminal crime
Boss with CREAM cocaine hustla
Blowin' out da brains of bustas
Be in my mansion, chillin'
Inhalin' ganja smoke
Countin' mad CREAM, weighin' tons of coke
Guarded by thugs and Rottweilers
I flood the streets with
Drugs and clock dollaz
Niggas get plugged when my Glock hollas
Skunk smoka, Philly and Owl rippa
Cristal sippa
I been a Willie for a while, nigga!
'Gruff got hoes, da man wit' all da nachos
Expensive hot clothes, drop-top Rolls


East Coast, West Coast, fiends overdose
'Gruff get the CREAM wit' my team
Then I'm ghost!

This money be temptin' me to
Jump out the MPV empty three clips of hollow
Tips wit' no sympathy
Since 14, I sold Morphine for more green
Kept dope in the Nautica coat
Under the drawstring
And watched out for cops
Squad cars and Bimmers and larger ninas
Flee the country to Argentina
Lay back on the beach, yeah
Coastin' with commuters
Smokin' the buddhaz on the cruise
Line boat to Aruba for a while, yo
Pumped the vile so I could pile dough
Then become a Harlem kingpin just like Alpo
Get paid so I can lay low in San Diego
With yayo and ship it out whenever I say so

Yo, makin' this money's the American Dream
East Coast to West Coast
You know what I mean
Whether it's Uptown or Downtown
You pick the scene
You gotta get your own scheme
We ain't splittin' this green

Yo, I'mma run hysterically 'til
They bury me
Count numerically, Hills of Beverly
More Grands than Cherokee
President like Eric B and Rakim
Drug game, I'm top 10, locked in
Right now is not a option
And those who creep
Got the mag' in the heat
To guard the 5-inch screens in
The back of the seat
And now they got this daddy braggin'
Last year, had me saggin'
Wasn't ready when Teddy was baggin'
Tossed me in the paddy wagon
But ain't nobody out here stoppin' love
'Cause we was 12 years old in
The Cotton Club poppin' bubb'
So all the fame without the fortune? Goddamn
You wrong!
Killa kid Cam'ron, survivin' in the Amazon

Yo, I leave you dazed and froze
With all kinds of amazin' flows
Money surrounded, I count it
While bathin' with Asian hoes
Back home, niggas is after me
I'm past the sea sippin' Daiquiris
Coke factories
Fiends baggin' up crack for me
From cuttin' up rocks to
Investin' in stocks
Nautica yachts and knots bustin'
Out of my socks
Now that blood's paid and chubby
All the ladies love me
They hate who made me hubby
Behind my back, they say my baby's ugly
Each night
I sleep with freaks in Lamborghini Jeeps
Neighbors be sneekin' peeks of how my
Semen leaks between the sheets
Mess up my loot, I'll cut ya collar swan!
'Cause these is modern times
And only thing I see is dollar signs

Check it! To be seen clean in the mean
Bimm' is every teen's dream
Big L's a CREAM fiend with
More green than Springsteen
You know I'm crazy quick to smack a groupie
I'm known to mack a hoochie
Do I got stacks of lucci? (Absolutely)
Harlem kids is known for
Felonies and sellin' keys
Pushin' 300Z's, GS3's and puffin' trees
These G's breeze while DT's
Be yellin' "Freeze!"
We stash G's and keep our
Pocket full of centuries
A yo, I'm set for the rest of my life
Some clown that laid a threat 'cause
I had sex with his wife
I stuck my tool to his brain
Said "Act a fool and get slain"
Nigga, ya bitch chose me
You know the rules to the game!

Interpretation for


Add Interpretation

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #
Interpret