Losing Weight, Pt. 2
Title | Losing Weight, Pt. 2 |
---|---|
Artist | Cam’ron |
Album | Come Home with Me |
Release Date | 2002-05-14 |
Description | Rappers like to brag about being drug kingpins, but the real high-drama of rap is the narrative of the desperate, small-time hustler, poetically exemplified in this second installment of “Losing Weight” “Weight” usually means a large quantity of drugs; here, the meaning is stretched |
Lyrics | [Intro] Know what's poppin', I'm not fuckin' with you, man You ain't have my money now, my connect not fuckin' with me Get the fuck out of here Nah, nah, yo, B, word to— word to Blood, yo, we— We got it poppin' right now Me, Left, and Gator, man, we just got Papi for a brick and a half, B I got everything I owe you and a another half for you right now in the car, that's word, B Right now? Right now, B Good, good, good, good, good You got your fuckin' head on your fuckin' shoulders now, B Yeah, yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about, nigga Let me think, let me think Now I could go back to— I'm goin' back to North Carolina, down in Greensboro and take care— Where I can take care with Thi and Bum and them niggas Jimmy and Zek' is right now in Massachusetts, I'ma call them Okay I'ma give you the directions, take the Benz If you get lost, push the OnStar, you know what I'm sayin'? The directions get you straight there, you know what I mean? Okay, let's do it Be careful, put that shit away, man, you know what I mean? Be careful, I love you, alright? You good Call me on the cell if you got a problem [Chorus: Cam'ron] Ayo, fuck losing weight I'm back on these highways moving cakes Life's based upon what I'ma do today Cop a car, new estate Nah, fuck it, get the beef and brocs, blue and gray Baby due today ('Day) I got to move an eighth (Eighth) Fuck the scrutiny Y'all niggas screwing me (Fuck 'em) Killa never let the drama slide Y'all gon' hear a nigga mama die (Yo, yo) Yell out homicide [Verse 1: Cam'ron] Eighteen months? Please, that ain't facing time I'm stressed anyway, need it for vacation time I'ma do the right thing, though, take shock anyway Six months, right back on the damn block anyway (Anyway) But look, money from across the street Think it's sweet, think he get money across the street Me and my peeps often meet And five-oh, they work for us (Us), walk the beat Walk with heat 'cause talk is cheap (Cheap) So dun stay silent (Shh) Revolvers, automatics, guns stay silent (Silent) When it comes to beef, it becomes a talent (Talent) Remember me, ODB, I'm the one from "Violence," Killa Digital ten, shit get critical, friend I got eight hundred invisible men That mean it could be the bank man Person at the gas station filling up your tank, fam Lady at the frank stand (Stand) Will rat poison your relish right in the center, babe Bitch is a renegade, she'll piss in your lemonade (Lemonade) And y'all dead now, that, you could bet now Do like a toaster, put your bread down Upset now, hate when I gotta rep clowns, blow TEC rounds In a collision, I see their ambition (I see it) But they don't know them days I was stooped up and pitching Or all them hot summers I was cooped up in the kitchen When it came to grams, it was ninety I fried Three-fifty on the stove and it's ninety outside ('Side) I'ma get this girl that be stuffing my bricks Felt life cheated her, she be cutting her wrists Her mom died, her-on overdose stuffed in her wrist Father fucking her, older man fucking her sis But love my music, say I do nothing but hits She'll do anything for me, nothing but hits 'Cause when she needed help, I got her nothing but fixed Needed coke, needed dope, yeah, I gave her a fix So she went across the street, gave him a kiss Stuck her tongue out, flirted, played with his dick "You know Cam?" He said, "Yeah, don't play with his chips" (Chips) Stood back, blazed him with six, amazing and shit Huh? Killa, Killa, Dipset, nigga You might also like[Chorus: Juelz Santana] Yo, fuck losing weight (Uh-huh) We back on these highways, we moving cakes Life's based upon what I'ma do today Take my moms, move away Yeah, I think I'ma cop me that new estate (Uh-huh) Baby due today (Come on) I got to move an eighth (That's right) Fuck the scrutiny Y'all niggas screwing me (Yeah) Juelz never let the cops get me On the block 'til the shots hit me (Yo) Until the shots get me [Verse 2: Juelz Santana] Niggas wanna know why I'm so nice When it comes to spitting that fire It's real, dog, I live in the fire Used to being in the streets, homie In the midst of the fire Break work, put it in pots, sit it in fire Quick to grab the fifth and just fire Try to peel off, I'm hitting your tires Hittin' your doors while your car's spinning, hitting the wall That's just the beginning of war I let you know you dealing with dogs My villains'll finish you off Head in your chest, brain Dead on the Van Wyck expressway While I got my hand in the TEC, wave Niggas like, "Fuck, is he stupid?" (Yes, I am) Cops wanna cuff me, do it You wanna be a hero, snuff me, do it Rush me, do it Shit, like I ain't been through the scars and bruises Like I ain't been through the bars, seen the sergeant troopers Look at my body, I lost so much weight Cops raiding my spot, I done lost so much weight I'm telling Papi, "Front me a brick, let me owe that cake" He telling me he ain't got but so much weight He been waiting for his connection to come I'm like, "At least give me a half, I'll compress it and stretch it to one" I'm on the block as usual With that block that you chop and the rocks as usual Watching for the cops that's moving through Me and my soldiers know the rules to use case we get bopped by the dudes in blue Keep your mouth locked, screwed, and glued Or shots from the Ruger duke'll circle round your body like hula-hoops (Woo) Mami told me, "Son, hold your own" And one day you gon' grow to be a rolling stone I believed her Juelz never let the cops get me On the block 'til the shots hit me [Chorus: Cam'ron & Juelz Santana] Ayo, fuck losing weight I'm back on these highways moving cakes Life's based upon what I'ma do today Cop a car, new estate Nah, fuck it, get the beef and brocs, blue and gray Baby due today ('Day) I got to move an eighth (Eighth) Fuck the scrutiny Y'all niggas screwing me (Fuck 'em) Killa never let the drama slide Y'all gon' hear a nigga mama die Yell out homicide Yo, fuck losing weight (Uh-huh) We back on these highways, we moving cakes Life's based upon what I'ma do today Take my moms, move away Yeah, I think I'ma cop me that new estate Baby due today I got to move an eighth (That's right) Fuck the scrutiny Y'all niggas screwing me Juelz never let the cops get me On the block 'til the shots hit me Until the shots get me |