Lyrics Leave Me Alone Pt. 2 - Cam'Ron

Leave Me Alone Pt. 2

I be like: «Move!
Get out the way»
'Cause I move bricks, get out the yay
And it’s 2 clips, I get out to play for
Few chips, I get out and spray
It’s more than shrimps, it’s whores and pimps
The difference in our crimes, yours attempts
Attempt burglary, attempt theft you just begun
I’m Grand Theft Auto
Racketeering, larceny, conspiracy, murder one
Electric chair, I don’t deserve the fun
But I get the dough, shit I might splurge on one
Now I know a lotta styles, some see
But listen, stop it child it’s a done D
I come to ya block, stop it’s that one D
Gators straight from Crocodile Dundee
No rubber sole, hardwood bastard
Fitted, legitted, hardwood classic
Killa!
Uh!
Uh, that shit you talk don’t move me nada
The dudes with the Q’s be proper
Uzi pop, you news and choppers
It’s truly liver, who knew we’d prosper
The game’s a bitch, ooh we got her
Shoes, Louis, Prada, groupie blah blah
Santana, Zeke, the kufi popper
We the movie Shottas
But it’s really rude bois and Rastas
With a trailer load of girls, excuse me Shabba
I wish my homie could watch me
Live Happy Days like Joanie and Chachi
I stay lonely and cocky
Dice!
Rollin' and rollin' 'em
Cars, the repo are towin' 'em
Ask black, we totally total 'em
Even Blood, he totally totaled it
Plus his life, he totally totaled it
But any girl I get I totally open 'em
Brain and they legs, coke and the dope in 'em
Killa!
Talkin' tough?
(Yo!), smokin' dust (whoa!)
Fuck with us?
(No! No! No!)
Get ya head bust
Get ya head bust
Fuck around dawg, get ya head bust
He talkin' fly (yo!), I wonder why (whoa!)
Fuck with us?
(No! No! No!)
Get ya head bust
Get ya head bust
Fuck around dawg, get ya head bust
I spend days on Kawasakis
Nights with Lewinsky
But I’m like the Ice Man, Michael Kuklinski
I style on New York, pile up my fork
The Dips, consulted by the son of Malachi York, doggy
Cause I push weight, plus I push tapes
God damn I’m starvin' and I just ate
I wouldn’t say I’m Nino at The Carter
I’m more like the plant in Little Shop Of Horrors
But I don’t say «Feed me Seymour»
I say, «Feed me Dame, feed me Lyor» (billions!)
Epic, they used to feed me detours
Roc-A-Fella, they feed me C-4
The way I blow up, the VS just soars
You GS-3, I’m GS-4
You in a Lexus, I’m Gulf Stream 4
Up in the sky, on a gulf stream tour
You want beef?
We’ll start a Gulf Stream war
Lay ya ass down on God’s green floor
We playin' golf in the Gulf of New Mexico
The cost to be the boss, you gotta respect it, ho
My gas game you gotta respect it though
I swear to god you think I’m workin' for Texaco
And ya section know when any day TECs could blow
Hit 'em from neck to toe when I come deck ya hoe, Killa!
Dipset bitch!