Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Harlem Streets, artist - Cam'Ron. Date of issue: 06.12.2004
Song language: English
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 dine ya Madonna momma, body bottle, your fine, I’m finer |
| Time to climb her, climb behind vagina |
| Then I hime and 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, tellem you my bigga pawn |
| 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, Hop a layer |
| Now the army suits cute wit my chocolate Airs |
| You ain’t gotta stare, go cop a pair |
| Still the sweet in me, 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 |
| Specially equities, wreckin we smile |
| In the fear tech the tech and use the tech that we wile |
| The tech with the septa, Receptive affiles |
| Hectic, heckle a 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 wheel, 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 |
| A test of 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 |
| N o timeouts homeboy, just one time |
| If they find that stashbox, just one time… |
| Shit, they’ll put the dogs in the trunk |
| Side of the road, holding you up, cold as a fuck |
| They want that button, Lunge it and push it Soon as they lunge it and push it, I run in the bushes |
| That’s how I play mine, jump over the grapevine |
| Take my chances, one on one with the k9 |
| Stealin a clip, for anyone squealin they lips |
| Fuck y’all if y’all ain’t feeling the dips |