Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Dope Man , by - Cam'Ron. Release date: 06.12.2004
Song language: English
The Dope Man |
| Killa, Killa… |
| How I get robbed in Cali? |
| I be with Cali thugs |
| Got mobbed in Cali, yeah, that Cali love |
| Come on chatter mouth, have my bling black is out |
| Stick me what that about, I was the only rapper out |
| Beverly, Foxhill, Roscos, swap meet |
| Slausson, Crenshaw, Compton, we not sweet |
| Like I’m chump change, Jimmy with his dun game |
| I’m fun aim, LAX gun range |
| Wife load is Felli Fel, holla’d at the kid proper |
| If something happen, skip rapping, they’ll be big choppas |
| Ghetto bird word, cause I keep the big choppa |
| No disrespect, niggas killed Big Poppa |
| The Williams sister, Romeo from Steve Harvey |
| Got the drop, get the drop, no please sorry |
| Got weed on me, no need guard me |
| I’m what you need probably, I teach robbery |
| We ride in that east side |
| Please roll up my weed high |
| We ride in west side |
| The city were them TECs fly |
| That dirty dirty south side |
| Midwest up top when we outside |
| But we ride in that east side |
| So please roll up my weed high |
| My momma always told me aim for the sky |
| So I, came out bangin and aiming at guys |
| It was, mainly slangin that 'caine by the pies |
| And the, fiends was payin for dangerous high |
| Blow, peep and ammonia, we mix it down |
| There’s no sleep on the corner, the pitching mound |
| And police, when the saw us they frisked us down |
| We hold heat, marijuana, they lick it down |
| So tell Bloomberg it’s a wrizzy |
| I take it back to '88 and move birds though my city |
| G.W. |
| Bridge, New Jers with the pizzies |
| 28 a key, the suburbs, they get busy |
| And fuck the phones, get the word by mouth |
| When the winter roll around, know the birds fly south (Miami) |
| And fuck the cops, got hella folks up in prison |
| Had no other option but to sell coke for a livin' |
| We ride in that east side |
| Please roll up my weed high |
| We ride in west side |
| The city were them TECs fly |
| That dirty dirty south side |
| Midwest up top when we outside |
| But we ride in that east side |
| So please roll up my weed high |
| Killa. |
| Dope man, smoke man |
| O’s float the coast, damn |
| Wrote coke and post man, slow jams, cokeland |
| Throat jams, throw grams, no ma’ams |
| Sell white throw tan, tell her (I'll holla) |
| Watch the kid from 140 bake |
| They say shorty straight |
| 28 grams, turn 4, 48 |
| Lord upstate, bought the cakes |
| Law offer 4 to 8 |
| All I do ignore they Jake, tell 'em (I'll holla) |
| I still bubble O’s, still double those |
| Still double my double, down in the double O |
| From the C. O, love gets sent to Daddy |
| Akron, Springfield, Cleveland, Cincinnati |
| That’s Detroit, Minnesota, Greenpoint |
| Naptown, Sactown, The Lou gots some mean joints |
| We orangutan it, a range bang it |
| Deranged strange |
| Like Pac I’m Gang Related (Killa, holla) |
| We ride in that east side |
| Please roll up my weed high |
| We ride in west side |
| The city were them TECs fly |
| That dirty dirty south side |
| Midwest up top when we outside |
| But we ride in that east side |
| So please roll up my weed high |