J.R. Writer, Cam’ron - Byrd Call lyrics

Yo, JR, they've been waitin' for you, dawg
They've been askin'
You ready? You up, motherfucker, DipSet
Let's go writer

To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers block bubblers, pushers, cookers
Pot jugglers
What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw
Clap, that's the byrd call

If the cops are comin'
Get to hop and runnin'
Quick and drop that onion
Ain't no stoppin' young'n
Put away that herb raw
Let us know the word or
Clap, that's the byrd call
I still be where the weed flip
In the P's wit the trees lit
So much water in the order
It's just leavin' 'em seasick
Wit a ski in my V6
Tryin' to skeet on a B lips down low
Like I'm tryin' to keep her a secret

Acura on chrome, passin' me dome
Next minute, shit, I'm finished
She'll be flaggin' it home
But I always keep a straggler
That's known to bone and run through a lap
Faster than Marion Jones

Man, listen, I still got the grams flippin'
Tan pitchin', corner to the damn kitchen
Gained a couple fans
Had to make a transition
But I'm still in the
Hood like your transmission

No cat could match me, I'm passin' fastly
Who's half as nasty
I got it locked from here
All the way to Cakalakie
But keep a mac for scrappies
Thinkin' it's just Laffy Taffy
Shit, this beat'll be the only
Thing clappin' at me

To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers block bubblers, pushers, cookers
Pot jugglers
What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw
Clap, that's the byrd call

If the cops are comin'
Get to hop and runnin'
Quick and drop that onion
Ain't no stoppin' young'n
Put away that herb raw
Let us know the word or
Clap, that's the byrd call
Damn, homey, in high school, you was the man
Homey that's what a fan told me, shit
Same old cat, get his Kangol clapped
Brains blown back, dissin' dame
Dame don't rap

Shame on black, the game's so whack
Dame search for children from in
Front of ya buildin'
Right to a hundred million
Go ahead, pimpin', pimpin', go ahead
Act up doggy
Getcha limp on pimpin', if they actin' froggy

Tell 'em, back up off me, I come down
Clap the 40 child, that's a badder story
I'm not in my category
Mess around, dame held Def Jam down
So pardon my back
Jackin' any left hand pounds

Redneck found, tech, tech pound, duck
Duck goose
Pump, pump shoot, shoot, let's get down, down
It may seem petty
But we all turn mean deadly
For green fetti, my whole team ready

To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers block bubblers, pushers, cookers
Pot jugglers
What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw
Clap, that's the byrd call
If the cops are comin'
Get to hop and runnin'
Quick and drop that onion
Ain't no stoppin' young'n
Put away that herb raw
Let us know the word or
Clap, that's the byrd call

This ain't only bars and tracks
This is for the hardest cats
Flippin' all the hard and back
Make 'em catch a heart attack
When you see the narcs attack, let me know
Start to clap clap, clap

A star with a deal, Chapar be on chill
The car is DeVille, it's real ill
Pardon the grill it's foreign my nills
Cruise the city with the semi
All silly on skinnies, like
I'm starvin' my wheels, uh

To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers block bubblers, pushers, cookers
Pot jugglers
What's the word, y'all? Flip that herb raw
Clap, that's the byrd call

If the cops are comin'
Get to hop and runnin'
Quick and drop that onion
Ain't no stoppin' young'n
Put away that herb raw
Let us know the word or
Clap, that's the byrd call