C.F.W.U. lyrics

[Produced by: AraabMuzik]

[Verse 1: Cam’ron]
Yo, I had a dream Hud 6
Said 'Killa Yo, killa, you put the real in rap'
And your style, man your style, he be stealin’ that'
And those n*ggas uptown, we gon’ be feelin’ that
But with that deep sh*t
You gon’ be feelin’ that f*ck the schools
Jumped in and pushed the ceiling back
And if it tires like the orange
I was peelin’ that
Pardon my absence
I was spendin’ too much time
In the Aspens, killin’ ‘em off with asprin
I ain’t talkin’ slopes
When I say skeet up
And this movie money got me with my feet up
Percentage do come in
I should name it the re-up
We up, TBE, no-one can defeat me Shawn
That n*gga money made
The weather don’t matter, I fly to a sunny day
I backed out fact, man
Who wanna come and play?
You ain’t got to run away, british
Go put the gun away
I’m gone
I smoke spliffs
On my lawn
I'm slicker than the Fonz
With more kicks than Solange
Cool sh*t, waistline
Full clip them off Finish with the judges
With tha’ bullsh*t they on
We started gifts with a train
Dealt with part of the team
[Verse 2: Jim Jones]

In 98′ killa went platinum
Then broke jaws for the team
Them big stupid old mansions
Ain’t nuttin’ change but the mansions
I’m still in the cut with a bad b*tch
Lettin’ that champagne spill while
I’m dancing The all by just text me
Said the Lord’s always gon’ bless me
I pray you, I got the gun on me
If a n*gga eva try to scratch me
I still kill for killas, make one call for my dealer
In a hall of war, in the summertime we still do
Four wheelers Rich Porter
Brick orders one n*gga won six quarters
Still f*ck on that white girl
But I’m gettin’ money with that b*tch daughter
(Hey, molly)
Brenda had a baby
When I had Mercedes I’m a serial killa
Just might stab yo lady

[Verse 3: Hell Rell]
Cam certified me on day one
I shot a n*gga on day two
Bought a Benz on day three
See why these n*ggas hatin’ me?
I’m Mr. Ruga
I’m still as the shooter
Baby We both got a Mac, but his a computer
Got yo sh*t in the stupor
Put yo b*tch in Aruba
She came back with a tan
I sent her back to her man
He lookin’ for me in the club
I’m in the back bustin’ champ’ 30 racks in my hand
Clap you and yo man b*tch
Spread the word, go tell ‘em we dippin’
Again Shout out to Plugs
No name, but he settlin’ in Ride around
Drop Rari, colors Cinnamon
Temps Shootah got Glock
n*gga sneeze and the n*gga abyss
Every time I pull up I look like a brick-a cooker
Yo BM in my DM talkin’ bout when we gon’ hook up
Somebody slipped her a pill
She on the bad back
Straight shotta
Killa hunt n*ggas
Like a Mad Max
Yeah!