CAM RON HARLEM STREETS LYRICS
HARLEM STREETS LYRICS by CAM RON:
From Cam Ron's new album, Purple Haze )
Killa (Killa)
Dipset man
Aye yo you know I've been all over the motherfucking world man
But ain't no place like Harlem man
(Let) me break it down man
[Verse 1]
We tie dynamite to the rhino type. Wino might find yo sight
Sell the information for a dime a white, that China China
I'm behind the diner, selling marijuana to a minor minor
Elder fella, lookin for that shine, Ill shine ya
My mind designa, you a dime, I dine ya
Madonna momma, body bottle, your fine, I'm finer
Time to climb her, climb behind vagina
Then I hime and grind her, 'til her mom remind her
Diamonds blind her, visions gone, kiss her palm
Turn her on, lift her arm, notice that her wrists is wrong
Gotta get it right ma, we gon get along
Said how don't trip, but yo the trick is wrong
First visit warn, day job tick a tron
Night time, missed the mom, bootleg cris and don
Brother Chris and Don, and they sister calm
They sell yay, you'll say yay, this shits the bomb
Ima hit my man, tellem you my bigga pawn
The rest, so yes, you'll be blessed to hit the intercom
You know kisses mom, she gave him wisdom charm
And they father come from a long lista dons
And I get it cheaper, I cop bricks like sneakers
And if the cops come, I just hit amnesia
But I give you an earful, it's tearful
Told my mother I hustle, and she said be careful
[Chorus]
Why I feel like I'm loosin weight'
Why I ain't got no money' If I'm movin weight
My lifes based upon, what Imma do this year
Cop a boat, Hop a layer
Now the army suits cute wit my chocolate Airs
You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair
Still the sweet in me, nothing they can do to me
I made sure my mother and girl, is smothered in pearls
When a nigga under the world
[ harlem Streets lyrics from
http://www.lyricsyoulove.com/c/cam_ron/harlem_streets_lyrics/ ][Verse 2]
Everybody like Cam got the recipe now
Not them three girls I got to be Destiny's Child
Specially equities, wreckin we smile
In the fear tech the tech and use the tech that we wile
The tech with the septa, Receptive affiles
Hectic, heckle a koch, Helicopters on the set of my sales
Nah, I ain't gon be imbedded in jail
Talking to a cellmate in a bed in a jail, dog
I broke bread with the wheel, fled from some seals
And the house, I was the head of the hills, shit
You get a dumb ho, and get dumb happy
Go to the gun show, get gun happy
Stuck, killed, mugged, milt
Tone flint sticks, bo, Chubs milk
Poochi, baba, butta got the hardest shells
We the Midwest gun cartel, nigga
Ya, well just clap up ya brains, snatch up ya chains
See dog' Rap is my aim
But I'm a hust-ul-a, in my heart, trapped is the game
A test of my frame, tapped to my brain, affects that remains
It wasn't rap, it was crack that got the racks on the Range
Look dog, don't be askin for dames, see
Playboy, I don't own that man
In any way homeboy, you a grown ass man, shit
And when I rap it ain't no punchlines
I be on the highway dirty, crunch time
N o timeouts homeboy, just one time
If they find that stashbox, just one time:
Shit, they'll put the dogs in the trunk
Side of the road, holding you up, cold as a fuck
They want that button, Lunge it and push it
Soon as they lunge it and push it, I run in the bushes
That's how I play mine, jump over the grapevine
Take my chances, one on one with the k9
Stealin a clip, for anyone squealin they lips
Fuck y'all if y'all ain't feeling the dips
[Chorus]
harlem Streets (Cam Ron)
Dipset man
Aye yo you know I've been all over the motherfucking world man
But ain't no place like Harlem man
(Let) me break it down man
[Verse 1]
We tie dynamite to the rhino type. Wino might find yo sight
Sell the information for a dime a white, that China China
I'm behind the diner, selling marijuana to a minor minor
Elder fella, lookin for that shine, Ill shine ya
My mind designa, you a dime, I dine ya
Madonna momma, body bottle, your fine, I'm finer
Time to climb her, climb behind vagina
Then I hime and grind her, 'til her mom remind her
Diamonds blind her, visions gone, kiss her palm
Turn her on, lift her arm, notice that her wrists is wrong
Gotta get it right ma, we gon get along
Said how don't trip, but yo the trick is wrong
First visit warn, day job tick a tron
Night time, missed the mom, bootleg cris and don
Brother Chris and Don, and they sister calm
They sell yay, you'll say yay, this shits the bomb
Ima hit my man, tellem you my bigga pawn
The rest, so yes, you'll be blessed to hit the intercom
You know kisses mom, she gave him wisdom charm
And they father come from a long lista dons
And I get it cheaper, I cop bricks like sneakers
And if the cops come, I just hit amnesia
But I give you an earful, it's tearful
Told my mother I hustle, and she said be careful
[Chorus]
Why I feel like I'm loosin weight'
Why I ain't got no money' If I'm movin weight
My lifes based upon, what Imma do this year
Cop a boat, Hop a layer
Now the army suits cute wit my chocolate Airs
You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair
Still the sweet in me, nothing they can do to me
I made sure my mother and girl, is smothered in pearls
When a nigga under the world
[ harlem Streets lyrics from
http://www.lyricsyoulove.com/c/cam_ron/harlem_streets_lyrics/ ][Verse 2]
Everybody like Cam got the recipe now
Not them three girls I got to be Destiny's Child
Specially equities, wreckin we smile
In the fear tech the tech and use the tech that we wile
The tech with the septa, Receptive affiles
Hectic, heckle a koch, Helicopters on the set of my sales
Nah, I ain't gon be imbedded in jail
Talking to a cellmate in a bed in a jail, dog
I broke bread with the wheel, fled from some seals
And the house, I was the head of the hills, shit
You get a dumb ho, and get dumb happy
Go to the gun show, get gun happy
Stuck, killed, mugged, milt
Tone flint sticks, bo, Chubs milk
Poochi, baba, butta got the hardest shells
We the Midwest gun cartel, nigga
Ya, well just clap up ya brains, snatch up ya chains
See dog' Rap is my aim
But I'm a hust-ul-a, in my heart, trapped is the game
A test of my frame, tapped to my brain, affects that remains
It wasn't rap, it was crack that got the racks on the Range
Look dog, don't be askin for dames, see
Playboy, I don't own that man
In any way homeboy, you a grown ass man, shit
And when I rap it ain't no punchlines
I be on the highway dirty, crunch time
N o timeouts homeboy, just one time
If they find that stashbox, just one time:
Shit, they'll put the dogs in the trunk
Side of the road, holding you up, cold as a fuck
They want that button, Lunge it and push it
Soon as they lunge it and push it, I run in the bushes
That's how I play mine, jump over the grapevine
Take my chances, one on one with the k9
Stealin a clip, for anyone squealin they lips
Fuck y'all if y'all ain't feeling the dips
[Chorus]
harlem Streets (Cam Ron)
Read the full song lyrics to HARLEM STREETS by CAM RON, from the album Purple Haze , ! Search our music database for Cam Ron songs and album lyrics The words and lyrics to this song are the intellectual property of CAM RON and his / their respective music label. If you wish to support this artist, download CAM RON music online or buy an album. Also visit our sponsors to download HARLEM STREETS ringtones or mp3s for your cell phone. If you want to help make this song by Cam Ron popular, please share it below or blog about it.
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