American Dream - Children Of The Corn, McGruff, Cam'Ron

Crooked corrupted criminal crime boss with cream

Cocaine hustler, blowing out the brains of busters

Be in my mansion chillin', inhalin' the ganja smoke

Counting mad cream, weighin' tons of coke

Guarded by thugs and Rottweilers

I flood the streets with drugs and clock dollars

Niggas get plugged when my Glock hollers

Skunk smokers, Philly and Owl ripper

Cristal sipper, I’ve been a willy for a while nigga

'Gruff got hoes, the man with all the nachos

Expensive hot clothes, drop top Rolls

East coast, West coast, fiends overdose

'Gruff get the cream with my team and I’m ghost

This money be temptin' me, to jump out the MPV

Empty three clips of hollow tips with no sympathy

Since 14, I sold morphine for more green

Kept dope in a Nautica coat under the drawstring

And watched out for cops, squad cars, and Beemers

And laundry ninas, flee the country to Argentina

Laid back in the beach (yeah) coastin' with commuters

Smokin' the buddahs on the cruiseline boat to Aruba

For a while, yo;

pump the vowel so I can pile dough

Then become a Harlem kingpin just like Alpo'

Get paid so I can lay low in San Diego

With yayo so I can ship it out whenever I say so

Yo!

Makin' this money is the American Dream

East Coast to West Coast, you know what I mean

Whether it’s Uptown, Downtown;

you pick the scene

You gots to get your own scheme

We ain’t splittin' this cream

Yo!

I’mma run hysterically, till they bury me

Count numerically, hills of Beverly

More grands than cherokee;

president like Eric B., and Rakim

Drug game, I’m top ten;

locked in?

Right now its not an option

And those who creep got the Mac in the heat

They got the five-inch screens in the back of the seat

And now they got this daddy raggin'

Last year, had me saggin', wasn’t ready

When Heavy was back, tossed me in the paddywagon

But ain’t nobody out here stoppin' love

Cause we was twelve years old in the Cotton Club, poppin' bub'

So all the fame without the fortune;

goddamn, you wrong

Killa kid Cam-e-ron surviving in the Amazon

Yo!

I leave you dazed and froze

With all kinds of amazing flows

Money surrounded I counted

While bathing with Asian hoes

Back home niggas is after me

I’m back to sea, sippin' daquiris

Coke factory, fiends baggin' up crack for me

From cutting up rocks to investing in stocks

Nautica yachts, and knots busting outta my socks

Now that Bloods play the chub

All the ladies love me, they hate who made me hubby

Behind my back they say my baby’s ugly

Each night I sleep, with freaks with Lamborghini jeeps

Neighbors be sneaking peeks, how my semen leaks, between the sheets

Mess up my loot, I cut your collars, Juan

Cause these is modern times, and the only thing I see is dollar signs

Check it!

To be seen clean in the mean Beam

Is every team’s dream;

Big L’s a cream fiend

With more green than Springsteen

You know I’m crazy quick to smack a groupie

I’m known to mack a hoochie

Do I got stacks of lucci (Absolutely!)

Harlem kids is known for felonies

And sellin' keys, pushin 300Z's

GS3's, and puffin' trees

These G’s breeze while DTs

Be yellin, 'freeze!', we stash cheese

And keep a pocket full of centuries

Ayo, I’m set for the rest of my life

Some clown that laid the threat cause I had sex with his wife

I stuck my tool to his brain, said «act a fool and get slain»

Nigga, yo' bitch chose me, you know the rules to the game

Yea What?

Harlem on the Rise

BloodShed, Killa Kam

Six Figures, Cee-O-Cee, Chuck Blassie

My Man man Mase, the Bad Boy

Uptown, McGruff

Big L, 139, NFL, 140