Now when they see Cam and his (boy) they say damn (Oh boy)
Santana’s that (boy) that squeeze hammers (Oh boy)
Cannons and bandanas, blammers we don’t brandish
Blam at your man’s canvas, then scram with your man’s leaded
And I’m back with my (boy)
Santana’s that (boy) that squeeze hammers (Oh boy)
Cannons and bandanas, blammers we don’t brandish
Blam at your man’s canvas, then scram with your man’s leaded
And I’m back with my (boy)
Now, when bystanders see Cameron Giles and his lad,
They say, “Damnation!” Oh, lad.
LaRon Louis James is that lad who fires handguns, oh lad.
We do not flaunt our firearms or our bandanas (we keep them secretly).
I fire at your fellow’s shirt, then scurry away with his firearm.
And now I have returned with my lad…
Cam’ron
Until that man is vanished away in the Grand Canyon
These kids are grandstandin
Niggas demand ransom over them grands scramblin (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Well fuck it, Van Damme ’em, Cam’ll blam-blam ’em
These kids are grandstandin
Niggas demand ransom over them grands scramblin (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Well fuck it, Van Damme ’em, Cam’ll blam-blam ’em
…And we will dump the body of the fellow we murdered in the Grand Canyon.
These young fools are grandstanding.
African-American males demand ransom
While struggling to procure thousand-dollar bills (lad, lad, lad, lad).
Well, forget it, manhandle them in the fashion of Belgian martial artist
Jean-Claude Camille François “Van Damme” Van Varenberg.
If that fails, I will fire my weapon at them.
Call up his (boy), I’m down South tannin
Mommy, I got the remedy, Tommy’s up at the enemy
Hommies and bodies but now my body is feelin finicky
Killa and Capo, we chill in Morocco for real-a
We got dough, chinchilla dough, to fill with them hollows, huh
It’s the (boy) I said it’s the (boy)
I’m the (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Mommy, I got the remedy, Tommy’s up at the enemy
Hommies and bodies but now my body is feelin finicky
Killa and Capo, we chill in Morocco for real-a
We got dough, chinchilla dough, to fill with them hollows, huh
It’s the (boy) I said it’s the (boy)
I’m the (boy, boy, boy, boy)
Telephone the murdered fellow’s lad.
I shall be in the Southern United States suntanning.
Mother, I have the remedy: My friends and I will
Aim our Thompson submachine guns at the enemy.
So many homicides! So many dead bodies! I’m feeling like a break!
I shall fly to Morocco with friend Joseph Guillermo “Capo” Jones II—sincerely.
We have so much money! We can afford chinchilla stoles!
We use all our money to purchase hollow-point bullets for further adventures.
It’s the lad. I said it’s the lad.
I’m the lad! The lad! The lad! The lad!
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