Intro (feat. 40 Cal) – Cam’Ron – letras

[DukeDaGod]Before we get into this Killa SeasonLet’s start this shit off with my man 40 Cal[40 Cal.]Who am I? 40 Cal. motherfuckerGat to your back, get down motherfuckerClown motherfucker(You will be wonderin what are we gonna do now)Let me try to explainI shoot his truck up just to drive him insaneGive his Rover the new name, the firing rangeWhen we see you yell fire and aimCause when I fire them thangs it’s like(You will be wonderin what are we gonna do now)I gotta watch who wit me, watch who prettyDrop two-fitty on a hot new BentleyBut when it come to drops say he cop too many like, damn(You will be wonderin what are we gonna do now)Down with wonderful Cal. {they make Hummers in brown?}Nah I just shitted on you, even haters lovin my styleI’m a role model, I make the hustlers proudI make the customers smile(You will be wonderin what are we gonna do now)Catch me in them thangs with Jennifer, BM’s with OliviaIf it ain’t Vivica or somebody sim-i-larComin down the block the suspense is killin ya like, wow(You will be wonderin what are we gonna do now)That’s Cal. we see him {we see him} we leavin {we leavin}He schemin, he be beastinHeard he kill people, we believe himOh shit he’s reachin(You will be wonderin what are we gonna do now)Killa Killa Killa Killa!Killa (Killa!) Killa Killa Killa! (Killa!)[Verse 1]Dial killa for murda once, no redialJust see child, the O G style and how I used to be wildThis the story of Cam’ron and Zeke Giles one way road to the P nowYea the whoscal, ohh child you wasn’t thereZeke snitched, if he did, I’d be doin a hundred yearsDid the interstate, big cities, tiny onesTook over niggaz towns, black ties, tiny bumsHandsome hoods, pretty thugs, but we grimy dunCars, cribs, money, had to find me someZeke right behind me dun dun, he play by all the rulesThat’s why the house is his, the cars, all the jewelsYa’ll niggaz all are fools, your regular married with childrenDawg, nine to five, office, poolCouldn’t live that life, I needa loft and poolI had too much class, I ain’t report to schoolIf they report to school, I caught the stool, extort the foolTook off his jewels, thought he cool, gun to mouth, they often droolFuckin wit this wolf, this should be taught to youYa money don’t matter, what you can’t afford to doIs fuck wit me dawg, that could be affordableHide ya mom, police protection, that’s when I’m cordialCars convertible, TV’s are portableFiends on line, coke lines, they come and snort a fewKillaGuns, 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 keepShot the fifth, and then like a Piston, toss the Heat (Bye)Now round the corner, up the block, cross the streetUp fifty flights, iight where the bosses meetAnd the Porsche is peach, felt like Boston GeorgeLeft Boston Market, did deals on Boston BeachNow I bought the beach, all because they applaud my speechOne nigga crossed the chief I know you heard he lost his teeth, and it’sKilla![Chorus]