Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Why They, artist - Cam'Ron. Album song Public Enemy #1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 28.04.2008
Record label: BE Music Publishing
Song language: English
Why They |
| See you lucky man… you lucky to be around me nigga |
| You better take on the oxygen you suckin' all the H2O nigga |
| My new name is motherfuckin' Velcro |
| The way niggas stick to me, no homo |
| Harlem 100 million dollars lovely dame and big |
| Shots to like wayne and biggs |
| No need explain ya dig |
| Someone come claim this kid |
| He a fraud, the city morgue, gon' claim his wig |
| Wanna be famous? |
| Well the game is rigged, this is Harlem |
| Where we scramble crack, beef come handle that |
| Melt them down to candle wax, pump water we camel backs |
| Not camel toes, sandal cats can’t do jack |
| Place a order well cancel that Jaffe set it |
| Any problems baby, come to Harlem baby |
| We drive several coupes, gray orange cherry coupes |
| Girls ball like Cheryl swoopes, dudes hustle on every stoop |
| Your Jimmy Choo, the beef and brocs ma are very cute |
| I’m like a can of Campbell’s bitch, yeah I’m very soup |
| Look the kid done rose, from sleepin' with roaches |
| In my nostrils, pick my nose, damn mice bit my toes |
| We slingin' keep ya ratchet bang it don’t forget ya codes |
| Lived in 56 and 46 live my crows |
| My grandmother fought they grandmother Mrs. Rose |
| Uncle came down, gat explode, that case disclose |
| Cause we’ll damage ya, amateurs don’t play with pros |
| They compose, nice girls they get turned to naked hoes |
| They wanna get the boy, hand cuff wrist the boy |
| Cause I’m the cookie monster, yep Chips Ahoy! |
| Ahoy from over seas they ship the toys |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me, huh |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me man |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me, huh |
| See my mind designa dump, pump when I find the pump |
| I’ma lift him ten feet she said he ain’t tryna duck |
| Do like my hair cut, line 'em up I lay 'em down |
| Sign 'em up, I swear to God garbage bags in line and drunk |
| I keep loaded guns, for every five bricks |
| My connect throw me one, you don’t know me son |
| Like I love rhymin', I’m just a thug shinin' |
| And leave the club blinded by the damn blood diamond |
| (Not Leonardo…) I hug the block |
| It hug me back, yeah trust I’m grindin' |
| I told my watch, now look at my watch love my timin' |
| Name stop, drop it, dog you not poppin' |
| When I’ma stop frontin', when ya mom stop coppin' |
| Shit you not rockin', stop watchin', Glock cocked |
| Dots shots in, call 'em re-run, he pop lockin' |
| When I stop his heart with some head shots |
| Better yet he Barney Rubble, he in Bedrock |
| Yeah you know we dead, when the grass is green |
| And the suits is black, and the roses red |
| That’s the kiss of death baby boy go to bed |
| And I don’t kiss ma, I know ya head so go ahead |
| I start wildin' on you, I tell you it won’t be polite |
| You mad I’m stylin' on you, duck down, weave the right |
| Pull the gat out, two shots, peace goodnight |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me, huh |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me man |
| Why they fuckin' with me why they fuckin' with me, huh |