Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fleegod, artist - Cam'Ron. Date of issue: 10.01.2020
Song language: English
Fleegod |
| You don’t know just what your soul does |
| When there’s no love and you sold drugs |
| On the first of the month like Bone Thugs |
| And the damn funds just won’t budge |
| And you live right where the crime was and the nines bust |
| You tryna shine 'cause the grinds on your mind |
| Sold nickel and dime without doing time. |
| Don’t mind us! |
| Still get computer’s 'putin |
| Nuisance, don’t care 'bout your two cents |
| You vexed, you’ll never get the blueprint |
| Switch siders, hopping a new fence |
| Relax before I relapse, these facts |
| Squeeze that three caps where you eat at |
| What you call feedback, bro, I don’t need that |
| Believe that, go home with your kneecaps |
| Blowing on Cheech & Chong, them sweet ass chron' |
| To each his own, make media leaches leave alone |
| Fuck sticks and stones, get beat to bones |
| You reach for phones, I reach for chrome |
| Then lie when gunshots reach your dome |
| Think these is poems? |
| You’ve seen all the money and cars |
| You’d think that Meech was home |
| Monogamy, nah, possibly do pornography |
| Listen to my philosophy, Cam’s autobiography |
| Outside on Lennox Ave with the coke and the crack |
| And the pen and the pad with the MAC in the back of the 'lac |
| While I’m racking on racks, you looking at endless swag |
| From Cassius Clay to bouncin' yay |
| In the fastest way, put the gas away |
| 'Cause all you gon' hear is, «What's his name died…» |
| «What's his name died?» |
| he done passed away! |
| Pull out the arms, body armor on |
| Dead to a farm by a bag of hay, you a castaway |
| Sunday through saturday, St. Patrick’s Day |
| Mother’s Day, any other day, Labor Day, Father day |
| Your death date on your death certificate |
| Is our day, that’s what I would say |
| I beg your pardon, Vanessa Carlton |
| Yeah, we a thousand miles away |
| At the ballet, wearing Balleys |
| That’s out of date, that’s our debate |
| What you wanna eat baby, trout? |
| Steak? |
| Steak, potatoes? |
| How about baked? |
| Inner city, out of state |
| I want dessert, that pound of cake |
| You sounded safe, from down the base |
| We’ll surround your place with a pound of tape |
| Put around your waist, then bound your face |
| Legs and arms, you down to race? |
| (Laughter) |