Iiwii Season 3 Freestyle - Camron Lyrics

3 s IIWII SEASON 3 FREESTYLE Lyrics[Intro]
Uh

[Verse]
Shorty said, "Being with you is like a odyssey"
"Well, is it?", I don't know, probably
I did a lot of things to stay away from poverty
Rolled Mobb Deep, causing Havoc, made me a Prodigy
R.I.P. Bandana P, and my father Gene
Grandpa Jerry, Grandma Dot
That was my heart and queen
From Andre hustler shit, I used to borrow jeans
Then Wu-Tang made that song, ah, they called it "C.R.E.A.M."
Thanks Method Man, that hook made my Beretta dance
And know I never left no prints, I had them leather hands
.38 and it never jammed, just smoke like the Netherlands
Been fly for years, seem like I'll never land
I was in Rhode Island counting millions in the Sheraton
All brown shearling for sure, sure made me prevalent
Way before Moderna, I gave fiends they medicine
I'm from 140th, I did this out a tenement
I rode the 101, the 2, the M1 bus
3 train, 4 train
Brooklyn, they used to bum-rush my block
I sold dumb dust, I had a papi to front us
I let this money become let me
Led me right to Columbus
Got with the gunners, the runners
Turned out humongous, the numbers
We had the winter when Jay was doin' the summers
'Bron still in high school, dunkin' and hittin' jumpers
Kept Mav and Rich with him
Leon Rose like, "Why you dump us?"
Saturday's deposit, chasin' SunTrust
Word to Donald that no one will ever trump us, us
'Bout to put that in my bio
I'm a Harlem nigga, got accepted by Ohio, how? Why?
Cause, I was really out there with them
Shot the bucket, my nerve, just before the algorithm
And the stamp on the dope was dope
It said, "Style and rhythm"
And they smoked good, real good
I had pounds to give 'em
I lived in the residence on 161
After Club 69, niggas had to get they gun
If you fucked in the parking lot, that was a hit and run
'Til the boys came, the shit was fun, yeah, it was
Anyway I told baby girl, "Grab your gear"
She like, "Goddamn Cam, I ain't even wrap my hair"
"Plus I got work tomorrow, my schedule'll have to clear"
I said, "You offerin' information I ain't ask to hear"
Curved her, man, I can't even fault her
And why lead her on 'cause I'll never see an altar
You know who I am, Cam, a.k.a. Culture
Saturday Night Fever, but the revolver's on Travolta
I grew up with the snake, rats, and vultures
How you hate on me and Murda, nigga? Just applaud us
Everywhere I went, I made Harlem look gorgeous
Pull up on these diamonds, Mortal Kombat, flawless
And my suits, they like eight times your mortage
Emmys on the way, forty seconds on the Forbes list
I'm talkin' tunnel vision, yeah, tunnel vision
I sold bundles, and I went down to the tunnel flippin'
On my block, you had to rumble, couldn't fumble missions
Flatscreens, nah, I had antennas on the television
Shit, I'm right where I need to be
Welcome back, season three, it's Killa, bitch
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Relax, man
You gotta relax