Oh Yes, Killa Season LYRICS

[Word to Everything]

Enjoy

http://www.azlyrics.com/c/camron.html 


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[Verse 1]
Dial killa for murda once, no redial
Just see child, the O G style and how I used to be wild
This the story of Cam'ron and Zeke Giles one way road to the P now
Yea the whoscal, ohh child you wasn't there
Zeke snitched, if he did, I'd be doin a hundred years
Did the interstate, big cities, tiny ones
Took over niggaz towns, black ties, tiny bums
Handsome hoods, pretty thugs, but we grimy dun
Cars, cribs, money, had to find me some
Zeke right behind me dun dun, he play by all the rules
That's why the house is his, the cars, all the jewels
Ya'll niggaz all are fools, your regular married with children
Dawg, nine to five, office, pool
Couldn't live that life, I needa loft and pool
I had too much class, I ain't report to school
If they report to school, I caught the stool, extort the fool
Took off his jewels, thought he cool, gun to mouth, they often drool
Fuckin wit this wolf, this should be taught to you
Ya money don't matter, what you can't afford to do
Is fuck wit me dawg, that could be affordable
Hide ya mom, police protection, that's when I'm cordial
Cars convertible, TV's are portable
Fiends on line, coke lines, they come and snort a few
Killa!

[Chorus]
(KILLA!)
Guns, cars, bitches, and (KILLA!)
Weed, smoke, dope (KILLA!)
Glocks, ox ockin I'm cocked (KILLA!)
Cam, fam, damn, it's (KILLA!)
Season and the reason you breathin (KILLA!)
Who buy out the bar though? (KILLA!)
Who far from a star but they car is Gallardo? (KILLA!)

[Verse 2]
I was forced to eat, anything you lost I keep
Shot the fifth, and then like a Piston, toss the Heat (Bye)
Now round the corner, up the block, cross the street
Up fifty flights, iight where the bosses meet
And the Porsche is peach, felt like Boston George
Left Boston Market, did deals on Boston Beach
Now I bought the beach, all because they applaud my speech
One nigga crossed the chief I know you heard he lost his teeth, and it's
Killa!

[Chorus]


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"Triple Up"
(feat. 40 Cal.)

Dipset, Killa, Street's what it is

[Verse 1]
I done stopped and styled hummers, rock for wild summers
The nerve in me, these courtesy of Crocodile Hunter (that's right)
That mean the croke-adile, see ya'll niggaz chokin' now
Know my style, you know I style, get money poster-child
Crip, piece, I swear you should come over child
Garage, Benz, Lambourgini, Rover fouls
Red, blue, green like the average frog
Don't be mad at dog, Ferrari out the catalogue
Bracelet switched to Bangles, medallions shit just dangle
Chain twist and tangle, you'll get ripped and mangled
Hit from angels, I told you we equipped with angles
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 her, in the basement longer than Big Tigger

[Hook]
Triple up, trey eight, four nickel tucked
Get some weight on your ass, give them nickels up
This is for my fly ice niggaz
Kilo breast, Chicken wing, fried rice niggaz
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

[Verse 2]
Ayo your clique is soft, my wrist is frost
I just pick a Porsche, guns we strap 'em on, then we lick 'em off (pap pap pap pap)
Got a sickenin' loft, you know how much the kitchen cost
Your bitch and boss, get 'em crossed, best bet don't piss me off
Listen horse a lot of niggaz I did endorse
Or course makes me nauseous when they call the force
Only force I call is the Holocaust
Holla scholar, bodies drop when the dollars tossed (35 hundred)
Hot stove, jelly jar, baking soda
Hot water, mask, gloves, can't take the odor
But I make the quota, hate cats that faking older
Remember back in the days, man them days is over
Know it might seem I'm sellin' ya'll a pipe dream
Wolf tickets, nope been a legend since nineteen
And that was in the late 1990's
You late, homeboy I kept them 19's shiny
Killa, easy

[Hook]

[Verse 3: 40 Cal.]
I came a long way from getting hanged by a white jury
Look at my neck, all you see hang white jewelry
I triple the chain, triple the wrist
Dice game the same night I through triples and split
I get menage et tua, the triple the chicks
Got 'em on a triple beam takin' trips with the bricks
My clique, the weight watchers, we wait for niggaz with watches
Or watch niggaz with weight with cake in they wallet
Raping they pockets and taking they projects
If you flip like T-Mobile I could make you a sidekick
Shit you see a profit one day off of my flip
You gotta go triple to say that it's my shit
But for now get ya hustle up
How you talk about triple when you still trying to double up
This the bubble music, hoes with the bubble buck
Bubble coke, and they bubble coke to cop that bubble truck

[BuddenzNasir]

ROFL wtf?...

[Spicemuthafuc*in1]

"Raping they pockets and taking they projects
If you flip like T-Mobile I could make you a sidekick"

How tight was that line! Anyways props for this Ive been waiting for the lyrics, Killa Season is off the fuckin hook! Dipset Bitch! Its a Movement