Harlem Streets Cam'ron

[Produced by Ty-Tracks]

[Intro]
Killa! (Killa!), Dipset, man
Ayo you know I've been all over the motherfucking world, man
But ain't no place like Harlem, man
Let me break it down, man

[Verse 1]
We tie dynamite to the rhino type, wino might find yo' sight
Sell the information for a dime of white, that China-China
I'm behind the diner, selling marijuana to a minor-miner
Elder fella; looking for that shine? I'll shine ya
My mind designer. You a dime? I'll dine ya
Madonna momma, body bottled, you're fine. I'm finer
Time to climb her, climb behind vagina
Then I hymen-grind her 'til her mom remind her
Diamonds blind her; vision's gone, kiss her palm
Turn her arm, lift her arm, notice that her wrists is raw
"Gotta get it right ma, we gon' get along"
Said "how?" "don't trip," but, yo, the trick is wrong
First visi-on, day job tick-a-tron
Nighttime, Mr. Mom, bootleg Cris' and Dom
Brother Chris and Don, and their sister Carm
They sell yay', you'll say "yay, this shit's the bomb"
I'ma hit my man, tell 'em you my pick upon
The rest, so yes, you'll be blessed to hit the intercom
You know, kiss his mom, she gave him wisdom charm
And their father come from a long list of dons
And I get it cheaper, I cop bricks like sneakers
And if the cops come, I just hit amnesia
But I give you an earful, it's tearful
Told my mother I hustle and she said "be careful"