Children of the Corn, Bloodshed, Cam’ron - Giving Up the Game lyrics
Cam'ron [Cam'ron Giles] Manhattan, NY, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Children of the Corn, Bloodshed, Cam’ron - Giving Up the Game lyrics]
In my Yacht under looks my Mahogany crib
Models from Germany is serving me ribs
And shrimp scampi, give up this life
Nah she can't be
Serious, she must be delirious
Weed in pals, rippin' aisles, sippin' Cristal
The kid is rich now
Treating every girl like a sleaze
Puffin trees
Overlooking the waves of the seas
Visualizing Gs, and M3s
And so much ice I could (Freeze)
Wait hold up
(High) , I gotta blow up (No doubt)
And get my dough up
The life of the stallions
Dining with Italians
Discussing hundreds of thousands
Miles of poison that'll have
Zombies roaming your housing
Complex, my own mob sending me bomb threats
When I retaliate with convicts they
Set be all 'pet
Stress, I'm feeling depressed
Puffing the sess'
Hoping success doesn't lead to an early rest
Feds knock down my door like it's a robbery
Subjecting me to give into bribery
Preaching it's no survive for me
Spies putting bombs in my whip
And it makes me wanna flip
But nah I ain't going legit
Give up the game give up the game
You gotta come legit
You gotta come legit, baby
Giving up the game giving up the game
You gotta come legit, no doubt, no douuuubt
No doubt
(Cam'ron) yo, I'm a run hysterically
Until they bury me, count numerically
Hills of Beverly
With more Grands then Cherokee
Presidents like Eric B, and Rakim
This drug game, I'm top ten, locked in
Right now it's not an option
Cause I live fast and trife
(The shit don't last for life)
But right now, all this cash is nice
I know the tactics kid
You see what kinda mac this is
I ran through mattresses
Hittin' models down to actresses
And other places blown my brain
I went from shooting that dope
To snorting that 'caine
The caviar, where they pourin' Champagne
With a dame, no shame
See I'm bouncing to my mountain
Front of my fountain, looking astounding
Stacking all these G's I'm counting
That's living lavish, am I right or wrong
Killa's like the Father Dom
Eating meals like Veal Parmesan
With linguini, fettuccini
Chauffeured in my Lamborghini
Bitches see me
Looking creamy in my Sergio Tacchini
Give up the game give up the game
You gotta come legit
You gotta come legit, baby
Giving up the game giving up the game
You gotta come legit, no doubt, no douuuubt
No doubt
(Cam'Ron) so any beef kid here's the remedy
No Diggity, and if you ain't no kin to me
I tell you now, I bust off like Yosemite
Girls I got the knife game, I'm trife, lame
I slice brains, drinking Night Train
Cutie pie with the iced chain
I'm caught up in the succession
Of getting bucks in, and pulling ducketts
My times are harder than construction
(Bloodshed) well it's the Willie with the
Bucks in the game
I think back to the days when my
Gang used to ride the trains
Snatching pocketbooks and chains
That's what played in my mind frame
To turn into the crazy
Scuffling and hustling type
All though I'm living the life
It seems like times is getting more trife
Yo, it must be the money
Rolling up a twenty, sniffin' coke
Thinking what it's like to be broke
Nah, I just couldn't see it
I can't choose a route that's scenic
Having cash is too convenient
Cars, gold bars, the whole nine yards
Give up the game give up the game
You gotta come legit
You gotta come legit, baby
Giving up the game giving up the game
You gotta come legit, no doubt, no douuuubt
No doubt