Cam'ron, Juelz Santana and The Diplomats - Dipset Anthem
Yeah, Dipset (let's do it)Uh, c'mon (yeah)
Uh, fuck with your boy (yeah)
It's Santana
Heatmakerz, where we at?
Let me see you do this
Killa, Jim, Freekey (uh)
Yeah man, I'm back at it
C'mon
Today's a new day, got the boo-lay up in the suitcase
Go uptown to Harlem, tell 'em that I sent ya
Tell 'em it's August, I'm gone 'til November (yeah)
I need a couple birds, get a broad, have 'em sent up (of course)
Call my bird, get my broad have her sent up (please)
Call my niggaz, call my squad, have 'em sent up (please, yeah)
I see a town I'm likin'
See some niggas gettin' money in a town I like it (yeah)
I run up on 'em with the pound and light it
Like, "It's my block now, all right kid?" (Whoa)
He understood me quite clear
Then that thing banged out and rang out the side of his right ear (woo)
And I got back to my business (uh-huh), back to my bitches (uh-huh)
Back to the kitchen, that Pyrex vision (yeah)
Pop, I let that white stuff sit in
Get hard, get rock, get to the block and pitchin' (what?)
Yeah, I'm sorry but this is how I'm livin
And this is how I'ma get it, fuck it we goin' in, hey
I stood alone watchin' the wall, in the zone
Hand on my handles
Listenin' to gangsta music, ayy
I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone
Flickin' the channels
Watchin' how the gangstas do it (yeah, say it with me)
I stood alone, gettin' dome
From a thick chick in sandals
Watchin' Shaft, clockin' math
Yeah, now I see death around the corner
Gotta stay high, will I survive
In the city where the skinny niggas die? Nope
It's the city where the skinny niggas ride, yeah
.45 semi on the side, yeah, twistin' when they drive, yeah
Lick a shot for Big Pop and 'Pac, yeah
One more for Shyne locked inside, yeah
Two more for Cam, for takin' over the Roc
Yeah, yeah, it's my year
So, okay, okay, okay, y'all can't fuck with me, no way (what?)
Jose or Hector Camacho (never)
TEC blows and watch yo' chest close and tacos
Motherfucker I'm the best, I told y'all before
I should y'all before, ayy
I stood alone watchin' the wall, in the zone
Hand on my handles
Listenin' to gangsta music, ayy
I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone
Flickin' the channels
Watchin' how the gangstas do it (yeah, say it with me)
I stood alone, gettin' dome
From a thick chick in sandals
Watchin' Shaft, clockin' math
Clockin' math, man
I'm with you Santana
This the union right here
Let's do it one time
Dipset bitch
You know you can't fuck with the boy (okay)
Killa, Killa, Killa
I'm on the westside of Chicago, lookin' for a bust down
And make me put my two arms up, touchdown! (What up, ma?)
You stay in touch now (okay), but when I touch down
I'm like Buckshot, shorty, Duck Down
Yeah I must clown, I'm from Harlem, uptown
Where we flash money, take your bitch and ask you, "What now?"
Birds flip a dozen, chicks is dicks they suckin'
Swallow my kids, go and kiss they cousin (for real)
Yes, they kissin' cousins, Toya's kissin' Muffin
Worst then that, they go home and kiss they husband (shit's foul)
That shit's disgustin'
Keep the chickens cluckin', keep the pigeons buggin'
This on my wrist is nothin'
Yeah, it's just yellow hearts and pink diamonds
Where I get the money for this? Don't think rhymin' (not at all)
You fuckin' with Pablo (uh)
Bravo, Mario Via Bolo, ho, Ta-to
I stood alone watchin' the wall, in the zone
Hand on my handles
Listenin' to gangsta music, ayy
I stood at home hand on a chrome, with a zone
Flickin' the channels
Watchin' how the gangstas do it (yeah, say it with me)
I stood alone watchin' the wall, in the zone
Hand on my handles
Listenin' to gangsta music, ayy
I stood alone, gettin' dome
From a thick chick in sandals
Watchin' Shaft, clockin' math
Written by:
Sam Dees, Laron L. James, Cameron Giles, Gregory Omar Green, Seon D. Thomas
Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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