C.F.W.U.

[Produced by: AraabMuzik]

[Verse 1: 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

[Verse 2: Jim Jones]

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

[Verse 3: Hell Rell]

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!