Leave You Alone - Cam'Ron

When Mikey gon' get that butter or them damn biscuits?!

Mother still getting high, she so damn gifted

Like she got no legs though… she can’t kick it (nope)

We can’t kick it, my man dig it, I Van Wyck it

Wicked wiggle, the man wicked, rap was Cam’s ticket (that's what I thought)

But it backfired, air in the back tires

Get ready for crack buyers, rap liars and trap wires

Thinking I’m awry, we thinking I’m raunchy

Watch «Menace II Society»…think about Chauncey (shhh, think about that)

The snitch factor, now it’s a big factor

Shit, life’s a bitch watch ya shit for you pitch after

Get dadda, Michelle home from school, her man Rich slapped her

Kitch scratched her, shot in the air… yeah kids scattered

Cause she joined a fraternity… the bitch «Kappa»

He ain’t like it, kidnapped her

In the hood, bitch cracker

Now Rich not… she could of met a rich cracker

She get high, worked at Mickey Dees, they Big Mac’ed her

They’ll train the fighters, Titus gained Arthritis

Cops they train the buyers, with Kelina can’t indict us (nope)

He beat them cases up like Mike Tyson '86

That’s why it’s like I got a license for these 80 bricks

Crib, tried to raid the shit

Agents on some hater shit

$ 60k to rob the kid, them cases never made 'em stick

I can promise this, you dealing with a Communist

That’ll pull the trigger on any nigga and bomb a bitch

My accomplices… they remain annonymous

And they gon stay there, I swear… I'm what honest is

Honestly you thought I quit like Tomjanavich

Conglomerate, treat you like Ramadan… honor it (y'all won’t eat!)

Y’all won’t eat, I’m unloading a lobster & pasta

Y’all imposters, imposing my posture… I gotcha

Mobsters with choppers, enough «dado» (that's chips)

Chicks… duct tape em, turn 'em over… butt rape 'em

Grams… cut, shave 'em, damn hair cut shavin'

But bust on her hussers like a lust… Wes Craven

That’s the hustle… I'm old school, you must page him

Whatever love hate em, won’t do… touch, play em…

Degrade em?

talk slick… fuck it your all sick

Lay you in dog shit, look over you… hork spit

Beef on Bobby block, right where his homeys walk

Homey we make bodies drop.

then skate like Tony Hawk

Over short paper, play a O for very long

Fourth of July: M80's, cherry bombs (what's that?)

They’ll disguise the slugs

Sent his friends for them ends

They had 'em like the Benz:

His eyes was bugged

Watch the don poke you

But for $ 4500 I will John Doe you

Your moms won’t know you (KILLA!)