Cam'Ron - Let Me Work lyrics

rate me

I’m smoking killa same color as lavender

I be with killas, millionaires, scavengers

And my own car often play the passenger

The girl is down, point 4, I’m banging her

Well my status, the lavish karats attracted her

But where the movie set? I see a lot of characters

It’s acrobatic, my flip with no spatula

I get the water from Seattle, I’m a mariner

Dom is Africa, be with my Dominicans

Clothes dig from Italy, my connect, well, he Mexican

Account at Switzerland, bad bitches in Michigan

Women friends say I’m private in long minks and Timberlands

Next up we have

Harlem’s own

Queen of the ring

Hustle

I can never give you all a glisten clear

While I’m soaking heaters and hammers my gorillas go bananas

Fuck shit, bitch hoe

Sorry, excuse my grammar

I’m used to ignorant shit, none of my hoes got manners

But let’s roll the ninas

Them girls sweeter than finna

I’m moving like I’m a beamer

I’m talking ladies being innocent

If I’d send shots to them from the bar

On camera if a nigga get …

Without the stay I’m stuck

All that fly look, daddy get your boss hit

If I want you killed I’d pull strings, you know guitar shit

Hey, it’s that your whole team? I could make a collage quick

Bullets jumping in the ground, something like a mosh pit

La crème levy and I be riding with some riders

Drive an Impala, pull up right beside you

Hand out the window, start blazingg at your driver

Claim you won drama but we swim into Nirvana

Next up we have Harlem’s own street battle of loveness

He really needs no introduction

I like to call him Beloved

I pray he blessed every youngin’ that’s tryna make the ledge

Be smart learning, make sharp turns on a razor’s edge

Just to put food on the table spread, keep the babies fed

A real man rather stay ahead ‘fore he stay in bed

You take your meds this morning you know your name Jack

Black, these white boys tryna remain fat

Jumping down and engage pack, mainstream and a main match

Watch but don’t ride on the other side of the train tracks

So sure, nothing more than the trouble lord

Buzz the door, hug the floors up against the wall

Some record like miracle with the other swords

Love involved, I put the mother ship in the motherboard

Is it the truth? Can you feel it? I’ll give you proof

Niggas root for me in the 13, Piggy Booth

50 rude niggas can’t do nothing when the witties shoot

You hear the snoop, gin and juice rappers

Please let me work

Next up we have the 14 year old street dog, y’all ready?

Hold on

Chris Miles

But anyway look

White kid but I make this shit on this game when I pick up the pace

Gonna piss on they families

It’s just because a youngin’ doing better they favorites, have that

I’m a beast at the case T3

I’m avenged, now they wanna get me all up in they playlist

Give me the crown back, king to these whack ass

Grind ‘cause my backstab’s after the count stack, stack, stack

Kick flows like a brown house kid would allow

Not down for the countdown

Try for the 50’s, last down to the man

‘Cause you know he’s doing down, down, down, down

Say dudes get no love

I’ve been going straight through this hustle till both my lungs breaking those

Hold up these basic and sees it’s too late

But my friend you should pray to your maker and bow down

To me every beat that I see is deceased ‘cause you already know that I chow down

And I swear to God I’ll paralyze your pair of eyes

Of every second that you see me

And I can’t be bothered with these random guys

Who been talking trash, can you please be gone?

On every song I’m off in the competition

I got beat up in school, now dudes be saying they tryna chill and shit but no

Homie just back off or my slap a rapper swag off

Get it cracking like a couple chiropractors at your back door

See you

Ok next up we have

What? I’m not going after that little kid

You crazy, you ain’t just hear what he just said?

Shit