Lyrics Harlem Streets - Cam'Ron

Harlem Streets

Dipset man
Aye yo you know I’ve been all over the motherfucking world man
But ain’t no place like Harlem man
(Let) me break it down man
We tie dynamite to the rhino type. Whine you might find yo sight
Sell the information for a dime a white, that China China
I’m behind the diner, selling marijuana to a minor minor
Elder fella, lookin for that shine, Ill shine ya
My mind designa, you a dime, I DIME ya
Madonna momma, body bottle, your fine, I’m finer
Time to climb her, climb behind vagina
Then I HYMEN grind her, 'til her mom remind her
Diamonds blind her, visions gone, kiss her palm
Turn her on, lift her arm, notice that her wrists is wrong
Gotta get it right ma, we gon get along
Said how don’t trip, but yo the trick is wrong
First visit warn, day job tick a tron
Night time, missed the mom, bootleg cris and don
Brother Chris and Don, and they sister CALM
They sell yay, you’ll say yay, this shits the bomb
Ima hit my man, tell em you my pick upon
The rest, so yes, you’ll be blessed to hit the intercom
You know kisses mom, she gave him wisdom charm
And they father come from a long lista dons
And I get it cheaper, I cop bricks like sneakers
And if the cops come, I just hit amnesia
But I give you an earful, it’s tearful
Told my mother I hustle, and she said be careful
Why I feel like I’m loosin weight?
Why I ain’t got no money? If I’m movin weight
My lifes based upon, what Imma do this year
Cop a boat, COP A LEAR
Now the army suits cute wit my chocolate Airs
You ain’t gotta stare, go cop a pair
Still the SCRUTINY, nothing they can do to me
I made sure my mother and girl, is smothered in pearls
When a nigga under the world
Everybody like Cam got the recipe now
Not them three girls I got to be Destiny’s Child
Especially equities, wreckin we smile
In the fear tech the tech and you detect that we wile
The tech with the septa, Receptive affiles
Hectic, heckler &koch, Helicopters on the set of my sales
Nah, I ain’t gon be imbedded in jail
Talking to a cellmate in a bed in a jail, dog
I broke bread with the whales, fled from some seals
And the house, I was the head of the hills, shit
You get a dumb ho, and get dumb happy
Go to the gun show, get gun happy
Stuck, killed, mugged, milt
Tone flint sticks, bo, Chubs milk
Poochi, baba, butta got the hardest shells
We the Midwest gun cartel, nigga
Ya, well just clap up ya brains, snatch up ya chains
See dog? Rap is my aim
But I’m a hust-ul-a, in my heart, trapped is the game
Attached to my frame, tapped to my brain, affects that remains
It wasn’t rap, it was crack that got the racks on the Range
Look dog, don’t be askin for dames, see
Playboy, I don’t own that man
In any way homeboy, you a grown ass man, shit
And when I rap it ain’t no punchlines
I be on the highway dirty, crunch time
No timeouts homeboy, just one time
If they find that stashbox, just one time