Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Cam'ron
Cam'ron
Lead Vocals
Beanie Sigel
Beanie Sigel
Vocals
Just Blaze
Just Blaze
Scratches
Memphis Bleek
Memphis Bleek
Vocals
Tilsley Orchestral
Tilsley Orchestral
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Memphis Bleek
Memphis Bleek
Songwriter
Cameron Giles
Cameron Giles
Songwriter
Dwight Grant
Dwight Grant
Songwriter
Justin Smith
Justin Smith
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Just Blaze
Just Blaze
Producer
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Mixing Engineer
Tony Dawsey
Tony Dawsey
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

I wanna welcome you to extravaganza Something incredible that's about to take place World renowned Roc-A-Fella, holler Yeah, yeah, nigga Just Blaze in this shit, ya heard? (It's ya main man, I'm back niggas) Holler (yo, yo) My break, I'm fresh off it I never change, I'm stuck in these ways, Nike Airs, sweats and Taurus (huh?) 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 fucking with a nigga that'll jump out, wave the steel I live this way, it's real, dog, it's no joke Blow smoke in your bitch face, piss on your wheels Slap your custies, clap your worker, dead the strip Stick your connect, yap your bitch So let it be known, I'm back on my grizzly The sergeant, the cap, the MAC holds 60 For rookies and vets, I'll bang 'til it click (click) So run and tell your dude that the Ruger come with two clips, dog M-Easy, won't leave, my hood need me Pop for sheezy, who don't believe me? We all criminals, but live like a diplomat We get low, when the dough low, get it back Here is something you can't understand How I could just kill a man for Killa Cam Me and my Roc killer fam, top billers, man (man) We run the spots, drop ceilings, fam (fam) Hit the wall, drop ceiling fans (uh) Listen, boy, man, 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 What you want, the dope or the weed? How you wan' package it, in the cap or the bag? How you want me packing, with the MAC or the mag? Yeah, that Bent' get back, but listen, scrap, act real fast And keep a wack that'll gag your back Block style from your swagger, your swacks It's the Broad Street Bully, bitch Bully niggas on the broadest streets I house niggas 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 niggas kill at will I keep my MAC-milli chilly chill (uh) On the really real 'fore I make you niggas feel this steel (Killa, Killa) Go 'head, stupid niggas, go fuck with them chicks (yeah) I'm the third little piggy, I'ma fuck with them bricks (bricks) Better yet, the bakery, I got pies and cakes (cakes) Nigga think doublin' is turnin' five to eight I turn eight to twenty, twenty to a hundred, hundred to thousand That to a hundred thousand (thousand), in front of housin' (housin') Closed the mall down, dog, no one's allowed in (allowed in) I'm coppin' everything, I'm done with browsin' (give me that) It's the top don, Glock palm, dot com Get your shit rocked, mon, like Hasim Rahman (Rahman) And I'm extra scary, CEOs, all the frontin' ain't necessary (why?) I fuck your secretaries All for information, it ain't necessary (nah, mon) They in love like the 14th of February (huh) Play 'em like April 1st right before I slide off (off) It could be March 2nd, sound like July 4th (blatt) 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 reesy piecy All my bitches rock Christian Dior, BCBG (uh) 'Round phony niggas, get the heebie-jeebies Hungry hoes say, "Killa, feed me, feed me" Calm down, ma, easy, easy (easy) Talk greazy, please me, get my man Weezy Still rock Ellesses to squeeze, appease me He ain't no tease, but measly Not Doggy's Angels, Killa, please believe me, uh You're now rollin' with them thugs from the R-O-C Niggas wanna despise the team (Roc-A-Fella) When shit goes down, you know who's doin' the poppin' Killa Si-Siegel-Siegel M Bleek Fuck those who disagree (yeah), my bullets, you get 'em free Roc in this mother-mother-motherfucker
Writer(s): Dwight Grant, Cameron Giles, Malik Cox, Justin Smith Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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