C.F.W.U.

[Produced by: AraabMuzik] [Verse 1: Cam’ron] Yo, I had a dream Hud 6 Said 'Killa Yo, killa, you put the real in rap' And your style, man your style, he be stealin’ that' And those niggas uptown, we gon’ be feelin’ that But with that deep shit You gon’ be feelin’ that Fuck the schools Jumped in and pushed the ceiling back And if it tires like the orange I was peelin’ that Pardon my absence I was spendin’ too much time In the Aspens, killin’ ‘em off with asprin I ain’t talkin’ slopes When I say skeet up And this movie money got me with my feet up Percentage do come in I should name it the re-up We up, TBE, no-one can defeat me Shawn That nigga money made The weather don’t matter, I fly to a sunny day I backed out fact, man Who wanna come and play? You ain’t got to run away, british Go put the gun away I’m gone I smoke spliffs On my lawn I'm slicker than the Fonz With more kicks than Solange Cool shit, waistline Full clip them off Finish with the judges With tha’ bullshit they on We started gifts with a train Dealt with part of the team [Verse 2: Jim Jones] In 98′ killa went platinum Then broke jaws for the team Them big stupid old mansions Ain’t nuttin’ change but the mansions I’m still in the cut with a bad bitch Lettin’ that champagne spill while I’m dancing The all by just text me Said the Lord’s always gon’ bless me I pray you, I got the gun on me If a nigga eva try to scratch me I still kill for killas, make one call for my dealer In a hall of war, in the summertime we still do Four wheelers Rich Porter Brick orders one nigga won six quarters Still fuck on that white girl But I’m gettin’ money with that bitch daughter (Hey, molly) Brenda had a baby When I had Mercedes I’m a serial killa Just might stab yo lady [Verse 3: Hell Rell] Cam certified me on day one I shot a nigga on day two Bought a Benz on day three See why these niggas hatin’ me? I’m Mr. Ruga I’m still as the shooter Baby We both got a Mac, but his a computer Got yo shit in the stupor Put yo bitch in Aruba She came back with a tan I sent her back to her man He lookin’ for me in the club I’m in the back bustin’ champ’ 30 racks in my hand Clap you and yo man Bitch Spread the word, go tell ‘em we dippin’ Again Shout out to Plugs No name, but he settlin’ in Ride around Drop Rari, colors Cinnamon Temps Shootah got Glock Nigga sneeze and the nigga abyss Every time I pull up I look like a brick-a cooker Yo BM in my DM talkin’ bout when we gon’ hook up Somebody slipped her a pill She on the bad back Straight shotta Killa hunt niggas Like a Mad Max Yeah!