Lyrics IIWII SEASON 3 FREESTYLE - Cam'ron

Uh

Shorty said, "Bein' with you is like a odyssey"
"Well, is it?", I don't know, probably
I did a lot of things to stay away from poverty
Rolled mob deep, causing havoc, made me a prodigy
R.I.P. Bandana P, and my father Gene
Grandpa Jerry, Grandma Dot
That was my heart and queen
From Andre hustler shit, I used to borrow jeans
Then Wu-Tang made that song all they called the "C.R.E.A.M."

Thanks, Method Man, that hook made my Beretta dance
And know I never left no prints, I had them leather hands
38 and it never jam, just smoke like the Netherlands
Been flyer for years, seem like I'll never land
I was in Rhode Island countin' millions in the Chevrolet
All brown shellin' for sure, sure made me prevalent
Way before Moderna, I gave fiends they medicine
I'm from 140 F, I did this out a tenement

I rode the 101 to two to M1 bus
Three train, four train, Brooklyn
They used to bum-rush my block
This old dumb duster, had the poppy to fund us
I let this money become me
Let me ride the Columbus

Got with the gunners
The runners turned out humongous in numbers
We had the winter when Jay was doin' the summers
'Bron still in high school dunkin' and hittin' jumpers
Kept Mav and Rich with 'em
Leon Rose like, "Why you dump us?"

Saturday's deposit, chasin' Suntrust
Word to Donald that no one will ever trump us, us
Thought to put that in my bio
I'm a Harlem nigga, got accepted by Ohio
"How? Wild" of course

I was really out there with them
Shot the bucket, my nerve, just before the algorithm
And the stamp on the dope was dope
It said, "Style and rhythm"
And they smoked good, real good
I had pounds to give 'em

I lived in the residence on 161
After Club 69, niggas had to get they gun
If you fucked in the parking lot, that was a hit-and-run
'Til the boys came, and shit was fun, yeah, it was

Anyway I told baby girl, "Grab your gear"
She like, "Goddamn Cam, I ain't even wrap my hair"
"Plus I got work tomorrow, my schedule'll have to clear"
I said, "You offerin' information I ain't ask to hear"
Curved her, man, I can't even fault her
And why lead her on 'cause I'll never see an altar?
You know who I am, Cam, a.k.a. Culture
Saturday night fever, but the revolver's on Travolta

I grew up with the snake, rats, and vultures
How you hate on me and murder, nigga? Just applaud us
Everywhere I went, I made Harlem look gorgeous
Pull up on these diamonds, Mortal Kombat, flawless

And my suits, they like eight times your mortgage
Emmys on the way, 40 seconds on the Forbes list
I'm talkin' Tunnel Vision, yeah, Tunnel Vision
I sold bundles, and I went down to the tunnel flippin'
On my block, you had to rumble, couldn't fumble missions
Flatscreens, nah, I had antennas on the television
Shit, I'm right where I need to be
Welcome back, season three, it's Killa, bitch

Relax, man
You gotta relax