Bout It Bout It... Part III

Lyrics

[Intro: Master P & (Cam'ron)] Yo, Cam, let's flip this thing on these niggas Ya'heard me? (Let's do it, my nigga) Well, do your dizzang (There's nothing, man) (Up top, down south, right) Oh yeah, oh yeah (We bout it) Aiight, whodi (Yeah) Yo, this one here goes out to them boys That's 'bout it 'bout it, Master P, Cam'ron We taking this from the South to the East, uhhhhh [Verse 1: Cam'ron] I represent, where them killers at? 145th and Broadway, you get your head cracked Get your legs snapped, arm-twist, ribs cracked Wig tapped, "play fair!", day care, kids napped You think you real? Well, my posse is crazier Your moms? Mobbing and raping her, Saudi Arabia I'm '89 tho', Audi and Avias Beef in N.O., I had to call No Limit up Baby MAC, baby gat, shit to wake the baby up My baby boo, cop the X5 – that's a baby truck Santana rolling big, Jimmy in the Caddy Dayton, Youngstown, Cleveland, Cincinnati In the double-O, I represent the C-O Please, hoe, Harlem World, 40th – that's me, yo Clips, 11 off; bricks, get 7 off Snow so white, only thing missin' is seven dwarfs [Chorus: Master P] Killa Cam, you know he 'bout it, 'bout it Jim Jones, you know he 'bout it, 'bout it Freekey Zeke, you know he 'bout it, 'bout it Santana, that boy he 'bout it, 'bout it Harlem World, you know they 'bout it, 'bout it Diplomats, you know they rowdy, rowdy 145th and Broadway, them boys real You know them boys, they don't play [Verse 2: Cam'ron] Killa... aiyyo, I'm bouncing through an ounce or two My crib look like the Fontainebleau A fountain too – no water, only pumping Mountain Dew Front on y'all little cats, I was bound to do I made it where chickenheads can't pronounce my shoes I got head, but need more mouth 119th to the whorehouse, soon as the tour's out (What's good?) Papi's rotten, my block top and spot be popping I pop ahk over some Oxycontin Cotton Club and Roxy Robins' Rubies and rocks, we popping Booties, Uzis and Glocks'll stop 'em (Stop 'em) Battery on his head: copper-top him When I'm in the building, dog, you've got to watch him (There they go right there) Got to spot him, Tre-8, a floor, revolve him The D.A., sergeant and coroner's problem, now Highs get 8 done, Dipset don't play none Jim Jones, Freekey, Killa and the Great One (Santana) [Chorus: Master P] Killa Cam, you know he 'bout it, 'bout it Jim Jones, you know he 'bout it, 'bout it Freekey Zeke, you know he 'bout it, 'bout it Santana, that boy he 'bout it, 'bout it Harlem World, you know they 'bout it, 'bout it Diplomats, you know they rowdy, rowdy 145th and Broadway, them boys real You know them boys, they don't play [Verse 3: Jim Jones] You know I claim (What you claim?) where them gangstas bang 15th and Lenox, 9-tre, they do they own thing In Uptown, up on 40, a phat Sean hit the block Dog, he move that water shit He like the network over wet work You come up short on that paper, get a wet shirt Then if you walking through Foster and Taft Flossing that cash, them gangstas'll put the torch to your ass And I can't forget AK and Wagner My dogs straight crazy, 'cause the AK'll blast ya One call to daddy, Sheik and Q LB's will sadly beat your crew, now come on, shit And dope stacks, right in front the liquor store Hennessy, Lil' Mimi, you know they flipped the raw My Dipset, oh yeah, they 'bout it 16 shots up out the Glock, I come up out it [Verse 4: Master P] I represent the South, now the world gon' feel us Worth $400 mill', still dump with guerillas I'm in the project posted up, like Toys"R"Us Retire my jersey – 65 for every chicken I plucked Pass the purple stuff, whodi, it's time to get swerk Up on the block, 1,000 grams on Hogan and Kirk We in them t-shirts and doo rags P. Miller throwbacks when the No Limit boys in the house Haters get back, Hot One hold it down In foreign ghettoes, Big Boys, Uptown, Rocheblave and Erato C-Murder locked up, but his name still ringing Me and Silkk getting yoked – riding, hustling, and slanging You know we 'bout it, I mean we rowdy! [Outro: Master P] You know we 'bout it, I mean we rowdy! New Orleans to the ATL – you know they 'bout it, 'bout it St. Louis – they keep it swanging L.A. to Las Vegas – them homies out there gang banging Oklahoma to Tennessee, them boys ain't playing 'Cause you know they B-O-U-T Texas, Florida – Detroit, Georgia Them boys done graduated from an 8th up on to water-water Kansas 'bout it – Virginia rowdy! Illinois boys to Mississippi – 'bout it, 'bout it New York, Arizona, the Bay Area, the whole California! North Carolina, South Carolina – throw dem 'bows Pennsylvania, Alabama – 'bout to let 'em know Missouri, rowdy – Boston, 'bout it! The New No Limit, Roc-A-Fella, is 'bout it, 'bout it