Cam'Ron - Suga Dooga feat. DukeDaGod lyrics

rate me

Brooklyn, Harlem

My man Little Fame on the beat, M.O.P.

Dipset, hey Suga Dooga

Verse 1:

Sold a million and they comfortable, oh boy

And you 30, you still can go to the store boy

My record store to the Windex to clean the Range

Chicken wings and fried rice, keep the change

Mitch you got the Coupe shop, well you lame buzzen

I'm not Pac, B.I.G., or Harold, 'caine cousin

Lemme explain something, propane with the flames buzzin'

Young fella, umbrellas can't stop us when there's rain comin'

Lemme leave 'em alone, hop on a paper plane

Why I'm beefin' for, he still ain't even say my name

He know the kid the dal, F how them bitches feel

I'm on the gravy train, I got biscuit wheels

The one the chicks can feel

Like Darfy clickin' heels

My car a babyface, it got that whip appeal

Hook

Cam'ron & (DukeDaGod):

Where my baby, my baby

Ya know, my lady, my lady

She never played me but lately, that's my (Suga Dooga)

I see invision her strippin' for tuition, just listen

I ain't knockin' ya mission, you my (Suga Dooga)

Who, me, sex, 5, me and miss act live

You fit that size girl (Suga Dooga)

I wanna beat it, in the bed I'm undefeated

Ya ass right, and look at the cleavage

Hey (Suga Dooga)

Verse 2:

Don't wanna hurt ya heart, I feel we deserve a start

You smart, and me ma, I'm a work of art

You I'm admirin', you feel that you're tired then

School ain't paying and they sayin' they ain't hirin'

Been there, told you different then I'd be lyin' then

My boss ain't have a gun so I was doin' firin'

That's neither here or there but you I'm tryna ask about

You like the internet, designer, fashion house

You from a bad block, worst ave, dead street

Ya baby-father, why bother, his nickname is Dead-Beat

You raised him all alone, your kids, you can call your own

You need a helping hand well baby girl, call the phone

Can't move in but my crib you can call your home

Call your phone

Hook

Verse 3:

Hey Suga Dooga, they said I'm a pusher pusher

Calm down, I ain't call you a hooker hooker

Naw I'm the nookie nooker, then I look and took her

"What about my man", tell him "Cam gettin' mucke booger"

Unload the toolery, the jewelry, you frontin' B

The eulogy, you don't know about the kid, well Google me

And truthfully I'm sounding like some fuel could be

We can pull the guns out and duel it B, it's cool wit' me

Got a sluggin' port, Lenox Ave, thug resort

Not on VH1, but I love New York

Some fiends love to snort, lawyers down to smother court

Right where their mother's fought

And ma that's another sport