I Am Dame Dash

[Intro: Dame Dash (Cam'ron)] Hopefully, y'all enjoying the album, as of yet My name is still Dame Dash and I'm still the CEO And I wanna take this time to kick it with my nigga Cam and my nigga Jimmy You know, we kinda came up around the same way 110th.. 109th... 142nd.. 140th And if I could rap, Cam, I'm telling you I swear to God, I'd talk my shit.. (I know) I'd talk about how I got that money and copped them cakes.. (Yeah, I got you, though) Cam, please man, COME ON!! [Verse 1: Cam'ron] In '87, dog, my man, Dame, was a cake copper Eighth chopper, now, he got a gray chopper Harlem, Brooklyn, Philly, the whole state's proper Shrimp, steak, forty-second, they ate lobsters He used to stack up his chips Crashed up his whip lookin' back at a bitch Left it, 'F' it, we bout to get twelve Jeeps '91, barbershop on 12th street Yeah, we turned dope into dollars Front haircuts, back 'dro in the bottle Any beef? Cam is in place Yeah, we got the bricks off of Hamilton Place Papi came down with product in the bag Put the crackhead in the taxi and we followed the cab Downtown, no, we took 'em We called Dookie, drove him over to Brooklyn Their baby's mother, she once got the drop on us We copped a bird and the bitch called the cops on us Dame took me off the block Hand to hand to handling the coffee pot [Interlude: Dame Dash] Thanks, Cam, I appreciate it, but man That's not enough, I still got some shit on my mind I still see the cars.. I still see the fact that we were stars I still see the rooftop.. Don't get it twisted, now, this ain't no song, like I said I just got some shit I wish I could say I can't rap.. matter fact, Jimmy, you fresh to def.. tell 'em somethin' Please, tell niggas how to get this money [Verse 2: Jim Jones] You still got visions of the rooftop I got visions of this Coupe drop wit invisible rooftops One of the first, to cop cases of drinks Cash, cars, racin' from the rink and skatin' the minks Shit, how hard is my team? We started from fiends, turnin' buildings to Carters, naw mean? That's Harlem, now we partyin', sparrin' Eugene's Bag bitches wit the bottoms from dreams We rich, yeah.. rip up ya tar wit cars and new beams Cop rims for every car on my team Call shots.. Dame, I'm just poppin' my fizzle I drop the top when it drizzle, this is what cocky can get you Fresh to def, we move the block of that sniffle Up on the block wit them pistols, we give a fuck if the Cops'll come get you, gangsta!! Man, shit, we the sickest Some is for war, we rip up the tickets after the cops.. can you feel this? [Outro: Dame Dash] Man, that shit was hot Pause.. I hope nobody's mad about that I just had to get some shit off my chest Matter fact, my man, FUCK YOU!! You don't appreciate a nigga gettin' money You don't appreciate a muthafucka that knows how to hustle You don't appreciate a nigga that's seen a million dollars And in that case, you ain't never gone see it Niggas better get they mind right Cause I got enough fresh for one-thousand days straight!! I could pop tags everyday for the rest of the decade!! I'm DAME DASH!!! HOLLA!!! [Fades out]