Cam'ron - Hey Muma lyrics

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Cam'ron - Hey Muma lyrics

Yo, girl, get a notepad (for what?) You ain't got no swag! And you so fine, It's so sad Still riding coach, need a Coach bag Let me coach you, no Coach tags (what that mean?) Get rid of that Coach bag! And listen, I ain't trying to throw jabs (f** you Cam!) Why you gettin' so mad?! Only one that deal with Cam' is a queen Louis handbags, Alexander McQueen Yeah, stand up I'm mean For how I handle my team, clean Harlem n***as don't wear sandals with jeans Car sk**s good, I can handle the Beem Nickle, dime, twenties, I can handle the fiends So hey Muma, que pasa? I'm water, baby, agua [Chorus] Hey yo, muma! I'm saying Can I come over? Cause I'm not playing Bend your a** over, uh, I'm not waiting And if I'm sober, I'm blazing. Hey! Hold up, let the Slime spit Need these first three rows, let my suave sit Icy, make it hard to see the time tick Me and my dine chicks, with gla**es of wine, lit Yeah, your money can't provide this "Hi miss" your answer's "yes, your Highness" "Try this! Only I can supply this" Reply this, you'll always see me in fly sh** If I don't know you, I hope not to Trying to play a tough role? I'm like "not you" Earl Boykins I'm D Rose, I got you Under the sun is where we pose, We hot, duke It's what I did to the booth How I spend in the coupe While you and members salute I'ma keep it trill, I'm that n***a living proof Telling me to chill is like stomping Cam with a shoe [Chorus] In the hood where I creep trying to hook me a freak Want to see what girl around here come put me to sleep Could mean a hotel, could mean a suite Could mean tuition, could mean a Jeep! But damn those boogie a** women Cam holds Jump out of Lambos Car, neck, hand froze Damn, yo! Cameras, stand, pose Therefore, watch her 'fore Cam rose She got down, I'm tryna' get the top Me, Lee brick and chop How to hit the block, eee wee piffing rock before the DT's get the watch The neighbors gettin' the watch, all day switching spots I'm in the hood like (muma) What's really, whats good (Frank Mula) Gun 50, black hood (same shooter) Blowing sticky black wood (straight ruler) [Chorus]