Текст песни I Really Mean It - Jimmy Jones , The Diplomats , Cam'ron
You
see
man
Let's
get
off
of
that
lame
man
Let's
get
into
what
we
like
to
do
man
This
what
we
do
preferably
man
We
bring
that
powerful
music
to
your
table
man
Killa,
let
'em
know
something
Young
Guru,
Just
Blaze,
Killa,
Diplomats,
huh
Juelz
Santana,
Jim
Jones,
Freekey
Zekey
Hoffa,
Dash,
huh,
Killa,
huh
Ya'll
niggas
dreamed
it,
I
have
seen
it
Body
warm,
heart
anemic
(I
really
mean
it)
Coke,
a
nigga
steamed
it,
fiends
I
leaned
'em
Beemer
leaned
it
(I
really
mean
it)
Guns,
really
beaming,
rarely
miss,
what's
really
good?
Bikes,
wheelie
and
creamin'
(I
really
mean
it)
I'm
a
genius,
Papadapolis,
never
lenient
On
your
Zenith
(I
really
mean
it)
Killa,
bag
me
more
mutts,
they
actually
all
ducks
Caddy
more
trucks,
it's
Daddy
Warbucks
And
you
Orphan
Annie
Ma,
take
off
your
panties
Seat
soft
and
sandy
(I
really
mean
it)
Yeah,
let's
get
lost
in
candy
I
got
lofts
in
Boston,
Austin,
flossin'
of
course
Miami
Reno,
Nevada.
Sip
pino
colada
Mama
I've
seen
all
the
Prada
(I
really
mean
it)
I
rock
Mauri,
Phoenix
Road
to
Glory.
Seen
it,
you
seen
it
(I
really
mean
it)
The
game:
abuse
it.
It's
pain
in
music
But
this
year,
wrist
wear
remains
the
bluest
I
get
lame
and
lose
it.
Beef?
Came
to
do
it
Aim
and
shoot
it,
flames
turn
ya
brains
the
fluid
Ya'll
just
kids,
see
what
I
just
did,
take
a
couple
bars
off
Let
Just
live
Yeah,
now
that's
powerful
music
man
You
need
to
pop
something
and
roll
something
(I
really
mean
it)
Killa
we
did
it
man,
I
got
your
back
forever,
Dip
Set
(I
really
mean
it)
And
them
lames,
we
pop
them
sideways
and
drag
them
faggots
(I
really
mean
it)
Ok,
we
back
in
Mami
listen
(I
really
mean
it)
Hey
yo
lock
my
garage,
rock
my
massage
Fuck
it,
bucket
by
Osh
Kosh
B'gosh
Golly
I'm
gully,
look
at
his
galoshes
Gucci,
gold,
platinum
plaque
collages
From
collabos,
ghost
writin'
for
assholes
Wanna
use
my
brain,
then
give
Killa
mad
dough
It's
all
good,
increase
Killa
cash
flow
Increase
my
fame,
that's
why
Killa
smash
hoes
You'll
get
side
swiped,
look
at
my
life
First
movie
ever,
murked
out
Mekhi
Phife(r)
And
papi
got
jerked
out
of
pies
twice
Dip
Set,
we
working
with
five
dice
Cee-lo
and
craps,
c-notes
and
stacks
I
send
bodies
with
"read
this
note"
attached
Ya
youngin'
fucked
with
boys
in
the
hood
Gave
her
a
son
like
Ricky,
from
'Boyz
in
the
Hood'
On
the
couch
bloody,
old
lady
sighing
Wifey
screaming
(I
really
mean
it)
Pissy
little
baby
crying
Fucked
up
man,
shit.
There
you
seen
it
(I
really
mean
it)
Fam
man,
you
terry
cloth,
that
mean
you
very
soft
Gravy
Mercedes,
add
the
cranberry
sauce
Yeah,
gangstas
ride
man,
Flex
we
got
you,
guns
up
(I
really
mean
it)
And
all
my
ladies
man,
the
ghettos
a
diddy,
I
need
you,
I
want
you
(I
really
mean
it)
Oh,
pop
something,
roll
something,
get
twisted,
that's
on
Jim
nigga
(I
really
mean
it)
Harlem!
Man
we
here
to
stay,
it's
nothing
left
to
say
man
(I
really
mean
it)
Eastside,
and
as
for
that
lame
man,
now
see
I
ain't
even
gone
say
your
last
name
Cause
that's
mine,
I
catch
you,
you
know
what
it
is
You
faggot!
I
ain't
gon'
get
too
hyped
over
you
man,
we
gone
bury
you
Holla!
See
if
you
bout
it,
bout
it
Cause
we
is
(I
really
mean
it)
NYC!
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