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Current Song
I Really Mean It (feat. Cam'ron & Jimmy Jones)
The Diplomats
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Oh Major, don't go! Young Guru, Just Blaze, Killa Diplomats, huh Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Freekey Zekey Hoffa, Dash, uhh Killa, uh Y'all *****s dreamed it, I've seen it Body warm, heart anemic (I really mean it) Coke, a ***** steamed it, fiends I leaned 'em Beamer leaned it (I really mean it) Guns, really beaming, rarely miss, what's really good? Bikes, wheelie and creaming (I really mean it) I'm a, genius, Papadopoulos, never lenient On your Zenith (I really mean it) Killa Bag me more mutts, they actually all ducks Caddy more trucks, it's Daddy Warbucks And you Orphan Annie, ma, take off your panties Seat soft and sandy (I really mean it) Yeah, let's get lost in candy I got lofts in Boston, Austin, flossing, of course, Miami Reno, Nevada, sip pina colada Mama, I've seen all the Prada (I really mean it) I rock, Mauri, Fennix Road to glory, seen it, you seen it (I really mean it) But this year, wrist wear remains the bluest I get lame and lose it, beef? Came to do it Aim and shoot it, flames turn your brains to fluid Y'all just kids, see what I just did Take a couple bars off, let Just live Yeah, now that's powerful music man You need to pop something and roll something (I really mean it) Killa, we did it man, I got your back forever Dipset (I really mean it) And them lames, we pop them sideways and drag them ******s (I really mean it) Okay, we back in, mami listen (I really mean it) Ayo, lock my garage, rock my massage **** it, bucket by Osh Kosh Bgosh Golly I'm gully, look at his galoshes Gucci, gold, platinum plaque collages From collabos, ghostwriting for *******s Wanna use my brain, they give Killa mad dough It's all good, increase Killa cash flow Increase my fame, that's why Killa smash hoes You'll get side swiped, look at my life First movie ever, merked out Mekhi Phife And papi got jerked out of pies twice Dipset, we working with five dice Cee-lo and craps, c-notes and stacks I send bodies with "read this note" attached Ya young'n niggas with boys in the hood Gave her a son like Ricky from Boyz N the Hood On the couch bloody, old lady sighing Wifey screaming (I really mean it) Pissy little baby crying, **** up man ****, there you seen it (I really mean it) Fam, man, you terry cloth, that mean you very soft Gravy Mercedes, add the cranberry sauce Killa Yeah, gangstas ride man Flex we got you, guns up (I really mean it) And all my ladies, man, the ghetto's a saditty I need you, I want you (I really mean it) Oh, pop something, roll something Get twisted, that's on Jim, bitch (I really mean it) Harlem! Man we here to stay It's nothing left to say man (I really mean it) Eastside, and as for that lame man, Nasir I ain't even gon' say your last name 'Cause that's mine, I catch you, you know what it is You bitch! I ain't gon' get to hype on you man, we gon' bury ya Holla! See if you 'bout it, 'bout it 'Cause we is (I really mean it) NYC!
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