Cam'Ron - La Bomba (feat. Vado) lyrics

rate me

Verse 1:

Cam'ron

My paper, yes, my paper

Got me sittin' on five acres, "Hi Haters"

Fly gators, coke cooker, pie baker

Drop-driver, girl-getter, dice-shaker

Try play us, your whole crew will be price payers

Knife-waver, gat-toter, life-taker

Nice flavor, real fruity like Clyde Davis

Sweat suit, fly Asics, (coke test) I ace it

I been rich, since 20, bitch

Gun right by the cash (what's that?) the money clip

This Gucci kicker got your girl in nuddy pictures

Sue me nigga, told me she want me to make her booty bigger

I'm the reason, true, but the reason she breezin' through (Why)

She ain't smart, she want a part in Killa Season 2

Get her a audition, get 'em in a mortition

She 'bout to dead 'em, y'all couldn't see the boy vision

Chorus

Cam'ron:

Come to our party

They drinkin' that more Bacardi, the music is hard body

They puffin' that Bob Marley, that ganja

The aunts and the mommas even ready for drama like

(La la la bomba")

Verse 2

Cam'ron:

Like fry chicken, they wingin' ock, me, I bring in gwop

I ain't sell enough records to have the things I got

First bring a drop, bring a store, bring a yacht

Bring the crib, bring the horse, chain cold, rings are hot

Let me stop, these niggaz like to sing a lot

Shot him in his hand, like his girl, finger-pop

Ain't no trouble askin', I'm in the bubble flashin'

Walther P.P.K .380, double-action

Played the restaurant, in the Yves Saint Laurent

Patent leather, black and decker, did your girl, played yo' aunt

Like a .45, I popped and dump her

Hung up, she called me back, tried to block her number

She could not get dumber, in the winter, blocks are summer

Your son my little man, yo' pops my runner

He washed the whip, said "Y'all alliance is gone"

Then he pulled out a wrench and turned the hydrant on

Chorus

Cam'ron:

Come to our party

They drinkin' that more Bacardi, the music is hard body

They puffin' that Bob Marley, that ganja

The aunts and the mommas even ready for drama like

(La la la bomba")

Aye carumba (la la la bomba)

Niggaz pull out they Llamas like (la la la bomba)

Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)

Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)

Verse 3

Vado:

Uh, I'm so cool, plus speak fly

You don't even hear the vroom when I breeze by

I see why, SLR, me and G-Y (slime)

Can't stop, hit the horn at least three times

They like who that (who that) nigga we that (we that)

40th to 4-deuce, Lennox where we be at

Here, take this raw too, finish then you re that

Banana clips sweep, six feet where you sleep at

Nigga believe that, that short change, leave that

You don't need a G-pack, the whole thing, we keep that

So what's goodie, black suede and hoody

No chain, I seen more bang bangs than boogie (Haa)

Yeah, I straight aim it fully

And techs don't wanna talk cuz my main man's the bully

Yeah this kid is the truth

I said "Killa, fuck the cars, just gimme the booth"

Chorus

Cam'ron:

Come to our party

They drinkin' that more Bacardi, the music is hard body

They puffin' that Bob Marley, that ganja

The aunts and the mommas even ready for drama like

(La la la bomba")

Aye carumba (la la la bomba)

Niggaz pull out they Llamas like (la la la bomba)

Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)

Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)