About This Track
"Think About It" is a track by Cam'ron, from the album Ghetto Heaven Vol. 1, released 1st October 2013. Full lyrics are available below.
Lyrics
[Intro] Nobody talkin' to nobody no more, that's the problem man Everybody runnin' around, do what they want do Til two in they ass, no homo [Verse 1] Uhh, no degree, but I got knowledge of self I, polish my style, lace my wallets with wealth Now I acknowledge my health In the mirror I just smile at myself (damn!) You think you fly? Feel like a pilot myself Violence - I move in silence, I announce it as stealth Four pound to the bouncer, try pronouncin' my belt Pounds - half a pound, kilos, ounces I dealt Heat, you clowns would just melt Beat niggas down, give 'em welts The streets is fucked up, government givin' no help They get high off the water, niggas livin' like Phelps My block, had millimeters, hollow points was the finest A better word to define us, the 140th niners (word) Why? Nine 9's, 9 to 9 We ain't care if you was deaf, dumb, stupid or blind Stoop to stoop with them dimes Recruit the youth losin' they mind Build a bomb, put 'em on Yeah, coupe to coupe when we shine, shine [Interlude] Nah mean? Ain't no chorus on this man Just roll one up and think about it man I don't sell wolf tickets I don't tell you no lies, I don't sell dreams man Think about it Don't sell yourself short neither If you're easy to get you're easy to for-get Remember that [Verse 2] Man listen, you'll be John Doe, I run with some no namers Never met celebrity Don't even wanna know famous (they ain't with it) I call 'em my disclaimers that tote stainless 5th bangers from La Havana, no inglés (español) What you want baby? E, Molly, or nose English? She said "number 3", oh, you feelin' cocaineish Turn fiend, b-ball rapper or a dope singer In an alley self abortin' with a coat hanger To this environment, understand that I'm no stranger Mo' money, mo' homicide, mo' danger The love is fake, the hate is real, and yo' anger Gon' leave him with broke fingers, believe me, he's no gangsta I come from poverty, for that coke, ma was starvin' me Curvin' me for that Ramen need fronto leaf for this harmony Long nights, long johns while armed for the robbery A life of crime, this life of mine I swear I need a warranty [Outro] Just let that joint ride out man And I just smoked 8 blunts, I'm high man Shit fade out
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