Cam’ron & 40 Cal
Cam’ron & Hell Rell
Cam’ron
Cam’ron
Cam’ron & Juelz Santana
Cam’ron
Cam’ron
Cam’ron & Lil Wayne
Cam’ron & Hell Rell
Cam’ron & 40 Cal
Cam’ron
Cam’ron
Cam’ron
Cam’ron
Cam’ron
Cam’ron & Hell Rell & J.R. Writer & Jim Jones
Cam’ron & Hell Rell
Cam’ron & Max B
Cam’ron & Lady Wray
Cam'ron goes after Jay-Z with wide-ranging accusations, accusing him of everything from carjacking to fashion faux pas (to be fair, open-toed sandals are pretty gross)
[Intro: Cam'ron]
Uh Dipset! 'Fore I set it off
Okay first off, you a bitch nigga
Only reason I'm doin' this
I'ma just name five reasons real quick, got 150, got 150
First, you stole Roc-A-Fella from Dame
Second, you stole Kanye from Dame
Third, you stole Rocawear from Dame
Fourth, I seen the nigga throw that diamond up before them shots was fired
Fifth, hold on, turn the beat off
I had to turn the beat off for this
You talkin' 'bout you a '80s baby, you 37 years old
You was born in 1968 and I open the Daily News
How's the king of New York rockin' sandals with jeans?
Open toe sandals with chancletas with jeans on
How's the king of New York rockin' sandals with jeans and he 42 years old?
Back to business
[Verse 1: Cam'ron]
You ain't the only one with big wallets
Got it, my shits brollic, dot it
But your publishing should go to Ms. Wallace
Honest, stealing Big's shit, he made two albums, you wilding
And he can't dress, dawg, who styled him?
It was Rocawear when Dame had it
Now you got it, call it Cockawear, heh not in here
Dead it pronto, you won't see a car, no
Dame and Biggs' bitch for years, now you Juan ho
He own the 40/40, got you in Atlantic City
Pitch your budget outta Baseline, goddamn it's pretty
You love a Harlem nigga, we get it cooking it's true
But now I look, we got more dudes in Brooklyn than you
Apparently, right? Down in Jeezy video
I should've kissed you on the cheek, you a pretty ho
And Jaz video you starred in it: Peter Pan
I was hopping off the Greyhound: Peter Pan
How could he be the man? Ha, only reason fam
I don't suck dick or kiss ass and I'm conceited, damn
But we hawk yo, right where you walk bro
You can fool the rest of the world long as New York know
We put you under ground clown, they gon' check the cellars
I know he 40 years old, I don't respect my elders
I respect the hustlers, plus the grinders and the sellers
You's a customer buster, here go jet propellers
[Chorus: Max B]
You got to hate us the way we getting this paper
All my niggas are coming straight from minimum wage
Niggas dick-riding the Dip steady trying to play us
But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face
Dipset! Hitting 40 and niggas we toting guns
Dipset! This is 40th nigga we from the slums
Dipset! Pushing 40 nigga you not the one
It's Killa season, holla at a nigga 'cause here it come
You got to hate us the way we getting this paper
All my niggas are coming straight from minimum wage
Niggas dick-riding the Dip steady trying to play us
But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face
Dipset! Hitting 40 and niggas we toting guns
Dipset! This is 40th nigga we from the slums
Dipset! Pushing 40 nigga you not the one
It's Killa season, holla at a nigga 'cause here it come
[Verse 2: Cam'ron]
Killa! Let's go (bitch nigga)
Who can fuck with me? No mammal, but we tote handles
At your open toe sandals, and you look like Joe Camel
Off of Roc-A-Fella, right? No contact
But bust this fly joint they put inside his contract
I left the label right, lot of cats wonder how
Every time I diss that label I get fined a hundred thou'
Just for telling y'all, I get fined a hundred thou'
Huh them cats are ill, five times a half a mil'
Wars to play, like a bumper sticker smack a grill
Paul Wall cap a grill but them cats are daffodils
East Coast, West Coast, slang yo cap get peeled
Down in Houston, ask B I'm a mack for real
Hackie tell me, respect, better dwell me
Beyoncé fiancé, check my second LP
I might bring it back, that's your girl, that's your world
Had the thing, fucking singing 'bout slinging crack
Mr. Roc-A-Fella stop, stop, stop it fella
Still got our acapellas, but I will Akinyele-ya
(Put it in ya mouth, uh, put it in ya mouth)
It ain't my fault I'm raw, I'm sorry B but I want a war
And he stabbed Un over Charli Baltimore
Sucker for love, hmm-hmm sucker for love
Kill a bitch, go to trial, hand be stuffed in the glove
I'ma hop in the bed, dawg gon' just pop off her head
Tell ol' Jay-Z chill, Cochran is dead
[Chorus: Max B]
You got to hate us the way we getting this paper
All my niggas are coming straight from minimum wage
Niggas dick-riding the Dip steady trying to play us
But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face
Dipset! Hitting 40 and niggas we toting guns
Dipset! This is 40th nigga we from the slums
Dipset! Pushing 40 nigga you not the one
It's Killa season, holla at a nigga 'cause here it come
You got to hate us the way we getting this paper
All my niggas are coming straight from minimum wage
Niggas dick-riding the Dip steady trying to play us
But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face
Dipset! Hitting 40 and niggas we toting guns
Dipset! This is 40th nigga we from the slums
Dipset! Pushing 40 nigga you not the one
It's Killa season, holla at a nigga 'cause here it come
[Bridge: Cam'ron]
Y'all niggas don't want it with us man
This just round one, 15 rounds B
We ready, brake off bluff, professional concert, sell out 25 thousand
Acting like you gon' diss us
You got anthrax over there man, and we George Bush man
You on some Saddam Hussein
Acting like you got something over there
You doing what Ma$e did, you making secret songs man
Let it out man, get ready for 15 rounds man
And all I did was battle once
Everybody getting ready to step to the plate
And I'ma step up again and slam, grand-slam yo ass pardon me
Dipset! I know you, I know you like that
I remember Dame sold you his old Pathfinder
Chipped in for the GS, you Jaz-O's son
Where's Sauce Money at? Where's the like, where they at?
I'ma get back to all that, Dipset dog
Round one, let the games begin doggie
Hahaha, ain't laughing at ya ugly ass no more
You ugly dawg! You ugly! You ugly man, you ugly!
My man Un said you look like Fraggle Rock and all that
You ol' Alf-ass nigga, get back to you nigga
Nigga oh!
[Chorus: Max B]
You got to hate us the way we getting this paper
All my niggas are coming straight from minimum wage
Niggas dick-riding the Dip steady trying to play us
But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face
Dipset! Hitting 40 and niggas we toting guns
Dipset! This is 40th nigga we from the slums
Dipset! Pushing 40 nigga you not the one
Pushing 40 nigga you not the one...
[Outro: Cam'ron Destiny's Child sample from Cam's "Do It Again]
Oh shit, yo dude make sure you got them old vocals
Bring 'em up real quick!
All them dimes we slung
All those crimes we've done
All those times was fun
But would you do it again?
All them dimes we slung
All those crimes we've done
All those times was fun
But would you do it again?
Yup, yup that's her
Yup we got 'em
Yup that's her
You Gotta Love It was produced by I.N.F.O.
Cam’ron released You Gotta Love It on Tue May 16 2006.