Triple Up Cam'ron (Ft. 40 Cal)

[Intro: Cam'ron]
Dipset, Killa, streets what it is

[Verse 1: Cam'ron]
I done stopped and styled Hummers, rock for wild summers
The nerve in me, these courtesy of Crocodile Hunter, that's right
That mean they croke-adile, see y'all niggas chokin now
You know my style, you know I style, get money poster-child
Crib, piece, I swear you should come over child
Garage, Benz, Lamborghini, Rover fouls
Red, blue, green like the average frog
Don't be mad at dog, Ferrari out the catalogue
Bracelet switched to bangles, medallion, shit just dangle
Chain twist and tangle, you'll get ripped and mangled
Hit from angles, I told you we equipped with angels
Can't find you, your girl, tape her wrists and ankles
Show her the click clicker, better yet six figures
Ask her, "Where that nigga, bitch? He a bitch nigga"
The big picture, get figures, my kicks glitter
Get with us, in the basement longer than Big Tigger

[Chorus: Cam'ron]
Triple up, trey eight, four nickel tucked
Get some weight on your ass, give them nickels up
This is for my fly ice niggas
Kilo breast, chicken wing, fried rice niggas
Quadruple up, triple five on me you stupid fuck
Take your ass up the block doggy the stoop is us
This is for my Benjamin bitches
You don't need 'em, get money credit scam bitches