C.f.w.u. Lyrics - Cam'ron

Yo, I had a dream Hud 6 

Said 'Killa Yo, killa, you put the real in rap' 

And your style, man your style, he be stealin' that' 

And those niggas uptown, we gon' be feelin' that 

But with that deep shit 

You gon' be feelin' that Fuck the schools 

Jumped in and pushed the ceiling back 

And if it tires like the orange 

I was peelin' that 

Pardon my absence 

I was spendin' too much time 

In the Aspens, killin' 'em off with asprin 

I ain't talkin' slopes 

When I say skeet up 

And this movie money got me with my feet up 

Percentage do come in 

I should name it the re-up 

We up, TBE, no-one can defeat me Shawn 

That nigga money made 

The weather don't matter, I fly to a sunny day 

I backed out fact, man 

Who wanna come and play? 

You ain't got to run away, british 

Go put the gun away 

I'm gone 

I smoke spliffs 

On my lawn 

I'm slicker than the Fonz 

With more kicks than Solange 

Cool shit, waistline 

Full clip them off Finish with the judges 

With tha' bullshit they on 

We started gifts with a train 

Dealt with part of the team 

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In 98′ killa went platinum 

Then broke jaws for the team 

Them big stupid old mansions 

Ain't nuttin' change but the mansions 

I'm still in the cut with a bad bitch 

Lettin' that champagne spill while 

I'm dancing The all by just text me 

Said the Lord's always gon' bless me 

I pray you, I got the gun on me 

If a nigga eva try to scratch me 

I still kill for killas, make one call for my dealer 

In a hall of war, in the summertime we still do 

Four wheelers Rich Porter 

Brick orders one nigga won six quarters 

Still fuck on that white girl 

But I'm gettin' money with that bitch daughter 

(Hey, molly) 

Brenda had a baby 

When I had Mercedes I'm a serial killa 

Just might stab yo lady 

Photos 

Cam certified me on day one 

I shot a nigga on day two 

Bought a Benz on day three 

See why these niggas hatin' me? 

I'm Mr. Ruga 

I'm still as the shooter 

Baby We both got a Mac, but his a computer 

Got yo shit in the stupor 

Put yo bitch in Aruba 

She came back with a tan 

I sent her back to her man 

He lookin' for me in the club 

I'm in the back bustin' champ' 30 racks in my hand 

Clap you and yo man Bitch 

Spread the word, go tell 'em we dippin' 

Again Shout out to Plugs 

No name, but he settlin' in Ride around 

Drop Rari, colors Cinnamon 

Temps Shootah got Glock 

Nigga sneeze and the nigga abyss 

Every time I pull up I look like a brick-a cooker 

Yo BM in my DM talkin' bout when we gon' hook up 

Somebody slipped her a pill 

She on the bad back 

Straight shotta 

Killa hunt niggas 

Like a Mad Max 

Yeah!