Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Cam'ron
Lead Vocals
Memphis Bleek
Vocals
Beanie Sigel
Vocals
Just Blaze
Scratches
Tilsley Orchestral
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Memphis Bleek
Songwriter
Cameron Giles
Songwriter
Dwight Grant
Songwriter
Justin Smith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Just Blaze
Producer
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Mixing Engineer
Tony Dawsey
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
(Just Blaze in this shit, ya heard?)
[Verse 2]
My break, I'm fresh off it
I'll never change, I'm stuck in these ways
Nike Airs, sweats and Taurus
But I'ma do it for my enemies
They wanna end my chill, wanna see what that villa be
Now what that sound like? Plus they know what a clip get down like
Turn bags from bladders, legs to wheels, pain and pills
'Cause you fuckin' with a **** that'll jump out, wave steel
I live this way it's real, dog, no joke
Blow smoke in ya bitch face, piss on ya wheels
Slap ya custies, clap ya worker, dead the strip
Stick ya connect, yap ya bitch
So let it be known I'm back from my grizzly
The Sergeant, the Cap, the MAC holds sixty
From rookies and vets, I'll bang till it click (Click)
So run and tell ya duela the Ruger come with two clips
Dog, M-Easy, won't leave, my hood need me
Pop fo' sheezy, who don't believe me?
We all criminals but live like a Diplomat
We get low, when the dough low, get it back
[Verse 3]
Here is somethin' you can't understad
How I could just kill a man for Killa Cam
Me and my Roc killer fam, top billers, man
We run the spots, drop ceilings fam
Hit the wall, drop ceilin' fans
Listen boy, may I show you how to fill a van up with killers, man
And line the trunk, keep a stash box for the nine and the pump
The coach walk you through and he grind you up
Whatchu want the dope or the weed?
How you want package it, in the cap or the bag?
How you want me packin', with the MAC or the Mag?
Yeah, that Bent get back, but listen scrap, act real fast
And keep a wack that'll gag ya back
Block style from ya swagger, ya swacks
It's the Broad Street Bully, bitch
[Verse 4]
Bully **** on the broadest streets
I house **** on the narrowest block
Know my rules when the barrel get hot
When the gun blows, and the shots fall, and the smoke clear
Man, I be hearin' you were murdered (You ain't here)
Nobody hit up in the cross 'cause I'm observin' (You ain't here)
Nobody be missin' your loss 'cause you deserved it
South Philly **** kill at will, I keep my MAC-milli Chilly Chil
On the really-real, 'fore I make you **** feel this steel (Killa, killa)
[Verse 5]
Go 'head stupid **** go fuck with them chicks
I'm the third little piggy, I'ma fuck with them bricks
Better yet the bakery I got pies and cakes
**** think doublin' is turnin' five to eight
I turn eight to twenty, twenty to one hunnid
Hunnid to a thousand, that to a hunnid thousand in front of housin'
Closed the mall down, dog, no one's allowed in
I'm coppin' everything, I'm done with browsin' (Gimme that)
It's the top don, Glock palm, dot com
Get your shit rocked mon like Hasim Rahman
And I'm extra scary, CEOs all the frontin' ain't necessary (Why?)
I fuck they secretaries, all for information, it ain't necessary
They in love like the fourteenth of February
Play 'em like April first right before I slide off
It could be March second, sound like July fourth
Halloween or Memorial Day
At your memorial be one year from today (Today)
All y'all think it's peace and peachy
I leave you reese' piecy, all my bitches rock Christian Dior, BCBG
'Round phony **** get the heebie-jeebies
Hungry hoes say, "Killa feed me, feed me"
Calm down ma, easy, easy
Talk greasy, please me, get my man Weezy
Still rock Ellesse, to squeeze appease me
He ain't no teas but measly
Not Doggy's Angels, Killa, please believe me
[Verse 6]
You now rollin' with them thugs from the R-O-C
**** wanna despise the team, Roc-A-Fella
When shit goes down you know who's doin' the poppin'
Fuck those who disagree, my bullets you get 'em free
ROC in this muhfucka
Written by: Cameron Giles, Dwight Grant, Justin Smith, Malik Cox