Cam'ron - What Part of the Game lyrics

[Panama P.I.] I'm the greatest rapper in the world, you who tryin to kid man I will slam dunk on your big man Been rappin for years, crackin them bears, the sound of platinum chairs Predict future cash and it's near, my speech is dittly I bust shots until the heat gets heavy f** b**hes until the sheets get sweaty Beats and melodies, will make me blink I'll pull my shank out, and give a warrior's cry If you ain't down wit my crew, all you die You can tell I'm real, by lookin in the ball of my eye I will get some cream from it, one day, your baby and my baby Can my some dough on Teem Summit Countin the loot, fountain the youth, the young God Here's the inside thug, like a Marmashad Some wanna have emotions and k** me Put the toast to my kidney, when I speak most of them feel me So, keep my name off ya breath 'Fore my n***a Gruff take the chain off ya chest All guaranteeing, blaow, take the brain off ya neck Off the top of the dough, one shot and you'll blow f**in wit Panama P.I., guarantee I'll take ya outta ya zone [Cam'Ron] Aiyo me and my n***a Hais, ride, lay loose Case ya try to play Zeus, got the tray deuce Hidin right inside the bubble, face goose Not to quickly to make to make news I'ma ace deuce, caught cases, I got Gotti and O.J. juice And my crew, you're very stackless, very co*k now Phase of every Rocky, turn your caviar a** into, um Chicken teriyaki, Spanish n***a try to front on me I say papi Rocky, wish he would of shot me Cuz I don't care if he frail or co*k D When I got the Glock, B, can't stop me And no judicial system could affix me, try to lock me Over papes on mine, Mr. D.A., someone to lace ya dime And tell P.H. that the camera job, come on, that's a waste of mine Cuz I got my girl Curry, live in D.C Work the spring court, you know for me, that just scary How Harlem n***a do, get in the building b**h hurry Before my girl see, back to top, so she can give me one on jury Says hung, got her sprung, she fell that I'm young Her little toy boy, make her lick my a** wit a tongue She's so smart, she's dumb, but I keep, tomorrow ain't promised Now I might need a one way flight to St. Thomas And at the same time I got a JAG fetish And who knows, I might have bad credit I can't borrow from n***as I a** betted Go to your girl, I pop my truck faster Don't make me Flex on you ghetto style like Funkmaster [Chorus: Panama P.I.] You got money, what it look like? You got crack, what it cook like? You got a song, wit the hook like? Word is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, n***as took mics You got crack, what it cook like? You got a song, wit the hook like? You got some money, what it look like? What part of the game is that? You f** around wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat [I-Born] I live the God knowledge, my book of life, he read like twice Five percent shine, today the grease like, my attribute's like Paretic chrome, I thrown, throw it at your dome, blown It be known, like Sa Salasi clone, connect wit one zone Cybernetic, verbal buck slang, king ebonic Nickname Farad, all of ya dude, rock me Muhammad I came swift, wit off as the sh**, they couldn't catch it Define this, got drawn so swift, couldn't detect it Thug covert, sip Scotch drink, just like an Irish Move like the infamous full blown antivirus Apollus, mad Olympic, fragile fitness Supreme gymnast, ancient decent, homey scriptures Equilibrium, catch me at the Wimbledon, thug gentlemen Guess jeans, Wu shirts, construction Timberland You're nobody wit nothing and your name shall be Nathan Who you facin, slugs blazin the amazin [McGruff] Aiyo check it, I used to live reckless Snatch kids necklace, n***a respect this A n***a catch this, blaow, trigga specialist Is your d**h wish, leave you rib and chestless Gun ho, real life thug, every one know From the Bumjo, to the kids, to Colombo My n***as locked down doin state, did you rumble? Twenty five to L, on the humble, real thug sh** Plug sh**, catch you, wouldn't dare f** wit Care rugged, from the skulls down to the Timb's Surroundin your Benz, wit n***as houndin your gems Yo pump this jam in your joint All my thug n***as cruisin wit the mamas on points City wise guys, gritty high guys, pretty mamas I even make boricua, shake the titty tatas Harlem World slugger, watch it explode like Pearl Harbor Screw ma, get a girl's Vodka And get them hotter, slide 'em off, twist 'em proper Yo I'm a s** fiend, f**in in my 400 hundred Lex' ring Flex cream, presidential rolly wit Gets gleam [Chorus 2X]