[Intro: Dame Dash (Cam'ron)]
Hopefully, y'all enjoying the album, as of yet
My name is still Dame Dash and I'm still the CEO
And I wanna take this time to kick it with my n*gga Cam and my n*gga Jimmy
You know, we kinda came up around the same way
110th.. 109th... 142nd.. 140th
And if I could rap, Cam, I'm telling you
I swear to God, I'd talk my sh*t.. (I know)
I'd talk about how I got that money and copped them cakes..
(Yeah, I got you, though) Cam, please man, COME ON!!
[Verse 1: Cam'ron]
In '87, dog, my man, Dame, was a cake copper
Eighth chopper, now, he got a gray chopper
Harlem, Brooklyn, Philly, the whole state's proper
Shrimp, steak, forty-second, they ate lobsters
He used to stack up his chips
Crashed up his whip lookin' back at a b*tch
Left it, 'F' it, we bout to get twelve Jeeps
'91, barbershop on 12th street
Yeah, we turned dope into dollars
Front haircuts, back 'dro in the bottle
Any beef? Cam is in place
Yeah, we got the bricks off of Hamilton Place
Papi came down with product in the bag
Put the crackhead in the taxi and we followed the cab
Downtown, no, we took 'em
We called Dookie, drove him over to Brooklyn
Their baby's mother, she once got the drop on us
We copped a bird and the b*tch called the cops on us
Dame took me off the block
Hand to hand to handling the coffee pot
[Interlude: Dame Dash]
Thanks, Cam, I appreciate it, but man
That's not enough, I still got some sh*t on my mind
I still see the cars.. I still see the fact that we were stars
I still see the rooftop..
Don't get it twisted, now, this ain't no song, like I said
I just got some sh*t I wish I could say
I can't rap.. matter fact, Jimmy, you fresh to def.. tell 'em somethin'
Please, tell n*ggas how to get this money
[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
You still got visions of the rooftop
I got visions of this Coupe drop wit invisible rooftops
One of the first, to cop cases of drinks
Cash, cars, racin' from the rink and skatin' the minks
sh*t, how hard is my team?
We started from fiends, turnin' buildings to Carters, naw mean?
That's Harlem, now we partyin', sparrin' Eugene's
Bag b*tches wit the bottoms from dreams
We rich, yeah.. rip up ya tar wit cars and new beams
Cop rims for every car on my team
Call shots.. Dame, I'm just poppin' my fizzle
I drop the top when it drizzle, this is what c*cky can get you
Fresh to def, we move the block of that sniffle
Up on the block wit them pistols, we give a f*ck if the
Cops'll come get you, gangsta!! Man, sh*t, we the sickest
Some is for war, we rip up the tickets after the cops.. can you feel this?
[Outro: Dame Dash]
Man, that sh*t was hot
Pause.. I hope nobody's mad about that
I just had to get some sh*t off my chest
Matter fact, my man, f*ck YOU!!
You don't appreciate a n*gga gettin' money
You don't appreciate a muthaf*cka that knows how to hustle
You don't appreciate a n*gga that's seen a million dollars
And in that case, you ain't never gone see it
n*ggas better get they mind right
Cause I got enough fresh for one-thousand days straight!!
I could pop tags everyday for the rest of the decade!!
I'm DAME DASH!!! HOLLA!!!