Song parody of
Get Down
by Cam'ron
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Remember I'm a man of respect (remember)
Remember Santana was next
Now its not techs, its checks and fancy collects
I want his wrist, fist, whole had, jammed with baguettes
Pose for the camera man me and Santana man
Word to my grand ma he one bad mamma jamma, damn
So I don't write for the stardom
I get, booted, zooted, write down my problems
I've been through it headed right for the bottom
D.C. naw, would've been a sniper in Harlem (so what)
That's why I throw some doe to my cody from Kosovo
Help me get on overflow (shhh) no one suppose to know
But she lay me up like the prime minister
Thousand grams of dope smellin' like Hine Vinegar
That was a lot to linger, but to the top I bring her
But when it came to dope, I always copped in fingers
Money missin', oh shit I almost chopped some fingers
Slit some wrist, that's when they said oh shit he's not a singer
Fuck the rap, fuck the movies, fuck Siskel and Ebert
This pistol I'll squeeze it, missiles if needed (killa)
Remember I'm gonna spend my cake
Remember Jim we getting out of five eights (projects)
Now chefs will fry us steaks (that's true) it's a higher stake
Swiss accounts I'm goin' show you how to wire cake
And we from BBQ, now you a CEO, direct a video
Your own album here we go
That's my man anytime I holla, holla with me
We shared chicken sandwiches they was a $1.50
But you seven dollars, nickel bag and white owl
I hope the chicken sandwich last us through the night child
We ain't care we didn't sleep we was night owls
Insomniacs our life styles compatible
Magical pops gone, shit tragical
Mom's on mission, my house is where the attics chill
I'm like a teacher, I need me a sabbatical
Its not irrational, I grew up radical
And you all are shook, I bought all my crooks
Fuck you R&B niggas Zeek sing all the hooks
Tito and Brick yes yes come again
They came sun or rain when I had that stomach pain (what else)
Remember I'm a man of respect (remember)
Remember Santana was next
Now its not techs, its checks and fancy collects
I want his wrist, fist, whole had, jammed with baguettes
Pose for the camera man me and Santana man
Word to my grand ma he one bad mamma jamma, damn
So I don't write for the stardom
I get, booted, zooted, write down my problems
I've been through it headed right for the bottom
D.C. naw, would've been a sniper in Harlem (so what)
That's why I throw some doe to my cody from Kosovo
Help me get on overflow (shhh) no one suppose to know
But she lay me up like the prime minister
Thousand grams of dope smellin' like Hine Vinegar
That was a lot to linger, but to the top I bring her
But when it came to dope, I always copped in fingers
Money missin', oh shit I almost chopped some fingers
Slit some wrist, that's when they said oh shit he's not a singer
Fuck the rap, fuck the movies, fuck Siskel and Ebert
This pistol I'll squeeze it, missiles if needed (killa)
Remember I'm gonna spend my cake
Remember Jim we getting out of five eights (projects)
Now chefs will fry us steaks (that's true) it's a higher stake
Swiss accounts I'm goin' show you how to wire cake
And we from BBQ, now you a CEO, direct a video
Your own album here we go
That's my man anytime I holla, holla with me
We shared chicken sandwiches they was a $1.50
But you seven dollars, nickel bag and white owl
I hope the chicken sandwich last us through the night child
We ain't care we didn't sleep we was night owls
Insomniacs our life styles compatible
Magical pops gone, shit tragical
Mom's on mission, my house is where the attics chill
I'm like a teacher, I need me a sabbatical
Its not irrational, I grew up radical
And you all are shook, I bought all my crooks
Fuck you R&B niggas Zeek sing all the hooks
Tito and Brick yes yes come again
They came sun or rain when I had that stomach pain (what else)