Talk About It Lyrics - Cam'ron

1 - Cam'ron 

Call the doctor up, the jewels sick 

Front get confronted, the tools grip 

My gun stay long like a pool stick 

I don't need it, I could kill em with a toothpick 

Like a bad hand, no prob. folding em 

Make em a golf course, 18 holes in em 

Like a Jamaican shirt, 28 grams I could make it work 

Straight to work, like amber stay alert 

'Fore I creep up behind you 

Won't see me coming like the swine flu, huh... times two 

Remind you I'm way way worse 

Like the FK, AK, trey 8 first 

I tell mami "ohh display your purse" 

Treat my dick like a sprite obey your thirst 

Walk in the weed spot, Louie shirt, g-shock 

Lennox Ave to d-block, we hot... oowww 

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2 - Cam'ron 

My mom had 3 strokes, fell hard 

No sympathys, flowers, get well cards 

All swell god, no lost love Ak 

She driving again, put her in soft spot 

Gotta thank Tito Poppin, off top 

Got her medicine, vicodins, cough drop 

Now I'm back out, niggas jaw drop 

Girls draws drop, glass say fuck em all ock 

Hit em hard rocks, right in they soft spot 

January 2nd until the ball drop 

I don't lobby for more props, I'm something that ya'll not 

Porsche hot, out in the ball park 

The faucet leaking, I don't play with leaks 

Song get played early, break his teeth 

I'm a fuck the nigga up that made this beat 

Two piece, dope fiend, straight to sleep 

Photos 

3 - Jadakiss 

I'm a keep it a hundred, these niggas don't want it 

Either a head shot or a bullet to the stomach 

If you live, you'll never fully recover from it 

If you die, we gon pop bottles 'til we vomit 

And nah, we don't wear diamonds, we roc comets 

My money came illegally, fuck it at least I'm honest 

Finally bout to leave all the bullshit behind us 

So right now death is the only thing I can promise 

40's and the lamas, we hitting everything except the shorties in pajamas 

Shooting in the Miami heat, like Chalmers 

Slugs make you feel like you rocking leather bombers 

Somebody call the coroners, I'm a hustler did numbers in the drought 

You at your moms crib for the summer on the couch 

A lot of niggas suck, nothing to figure out 

They put themselves in the hole, want you to dig em out