Testi Let Me Work - Cam'Ron, Loaded Lux, Chris Miles

Let Me Work

I’m smoking killa same color as lavender\nI be with killas, millionaires, scavengers\nAnd my own car often play the passenger\nThe girl is down (point 4, I’m bangin er)\nWell my status, the lavish karats attracted her\nBut where the movie set? I see a lot of characters\nIt’s acrobatic, my flip with no spatula\nI get the water from the Seattle — I’m a marinar\nDom it’s Africa, be with my Dominicans\nClues dig from Italy, my connect well he Mexican\nAccount at Switzerland, bad bitches in Michigan\nWomen friends say I’m priver than moments in timberland\n(Interlude)\nNext up we have\nHarlem’s own\nQueen of the ring\nHustle!\n(Verse)\nI can never give you all a glisten clear\nWhile I’m soakin heaters and hammers my gorillas go bananas\nFuck shit, bitch hoe\nSorry, excuse my grammar\nI’m used to ignorant shit, none of my hoes got manners\nBut let’s roll the ninas,\nThem girls, we live in Finland\nI’m movin like a beamer\nI’m talkin ladies being innocent\nIf I’d send shots to them from the bar\nOn camera if a nigga get that in a shootin star\nWithout the stay I’m stuck\nAll that fly look, daddy get yo boss hit\nIf I want you killed I’d pull strings, you know guitar shit\nHey, it’s that yo whole team? I could make a collage quick\nBullets jumpin in the ground, something like a mosh pit\nLa crème levy and I be ridin with some riders\nDrive an Impala, pull up right beside ya\nHand out the window, start blammin at yo driver\nClaim you won drama but we swim into Nirvana\n(Interlude)\nNext up we have Harlem’s own street battler loveness\nHe really needs no introduction\nI like to call him Beloved\n(Verse)\nI pray he blessed every youngin that’s tryna make the ledge\nBe smart learnin, make sharp turns on a razor’s edge\nJust to put food on the table spread, keep the babies fed\nA real man rather stay ahead fore he stay in bed\nYou take yo meds this morning you know yo name Jack\nBlack, these white boys tryna remain fat\nJumpin down and engage pack, mainstream and a main match\nWatch but don’t ride on the other side of the train track\nSo sure, nothing more than the trouble Lord\nBuzz the door, hug the floors up against the wall\nSome record like miracle with the other swords\nLove involved, I put the mother ship in the motherboard\nIs it the truth?\nCan you feel it? I’ll give you proof\nNiggas root for me in the 13, Piggy Booth\n50 rude niggas can’t do nothing when the witties shoot\nYou hear the snoop, gin and juice rappers\nPlease let me work\n(Interlude)\nNext up we have the 14 year old street dog, yall ready?\nHold on\nChris Miles\n(Verse)\nBut anyway lolololoook\nWhite kid but I make this shit on this game when I pick up the pace\nGonna piss on they families\nIt’s just because a youngin doing better they favorites, have that\nI’m a beast at the case T3\nI’m avenged, now they wanna get me all up in they playlist\nGive me the crown back, king to these whack ass\nGrind cuz my backstab’s after the count stack stack stack\nKick flows like a brown house kid would allow\nNot down for the countdown\nTry for the 50's, last down to the man\nCuz you know he’s doing down down down down wut?\nSay dudes get no love\nI’ve been going through this hustle til both my lungs breakin those\nHold up these basic and sees it’s too late\nBut my friend you should pray to yo maker and bow down\nTo me every beat that I see is deceased cuz you already know that I chow down\nAnd I swear to God I’ll paralyze your pair of eyes\nOf every second that you see me\nAnd I can’t even bother with these random guys\nWho been talkin trash, can you please gone?\nOn every song I’m off in the competition\nI got beat up in school, now dudes be sayin they tryna chill and shit but no\nHomie just back off or my slap a rapper swag off\nGet it crackin like a couple chiropractors at yo back door\nSee ya\n(Outro)\nOk next up we have\nWhat? I’m not going after that little kid\nYou crazy, you ain’t just hear what he just said?\nShiiit