I Really Mean It

Lyrics

[Produced by Just Blaze] [Intro: Cam'ron & Major Harris sample] "Oh, oh... oh Major, don't go!" Young Guru, Just Blaze, Killa Diplomats, huh Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Freekey Zekey Hoffa, Dash, uhh Killa, uh [Verse 1: Cam'ron] Y'all niggas dreamed it, I've seen it Body warm, heart anemic (I really mean it) Coke, a nigga steamed it; fiends, I leaned 'em Beamer, leaned it (I really mean it) Guns, really beaming; rarely miss, what's really good? Bikes, wheelie, and creaming (I really mean it) I'm a–genius, Papadopoulos, 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, flossing, of course, Miami Reno, Nevada, sip piña colada Mama, I've seen all the Prada (I really mean it) I rock–Mauri, Fennix The road to glory's scenic, 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 your brains to fluid Y'all just kids, see what I just did? Take a couple bars off, let Just live [Interlude: Jim Jones] 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 Dipset (I really mean it) And them lames, we pop them sideways and drag them faggots (I really mean it) [Verse 2: Cam'ron] Okay, we back in – mami, listen (I really mean it) Ayo, lock my garage, rock my massage Fuck it, bucket by OshKosh B'Gosh Golly, I'm gully, look at his galoshes Gucci, gold, platinum plaque collages From collabos, ghostwriting for assholes Wanna use my brain, they 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' And Papi got jerked out of pies twice Dipset, we working with five dice Cee-lo and craps, C-notes and stacks I send bodies with "Read this note" attached "Ya young'n fucked with boys in the hood" Gave her a son like Ricky from Boyz N 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 Killa [Outro: Jim Jones] Yeah, gangstas ride, man Flex, we got you, guns up (I really mean it) And all my ladies, man, the ghetto's saditty 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, Nasir I ain't even gon' say your last name, 'cause that's mine I catch you, you know what it is, you faggot! I ain't gon' get too hype on you, man, we gon' bury ya Holla! See if you 'bout it, 'bout it 'Cause we is (I really mean it) NYC!