Diplomats - I Really Mean It Lyrics
[woman singing in background][intro: jimmy jones]You see manLets get off of that lame manLets get into what we like to do manThis what we do preferably manWe bring that powerful music to your table manKilla, let em know something[camron]Young guru, just blaze, killa, diplomats, huhJuelz santana, jim jones, freaky zekeyHoffa, dash, huh, killa, huhYall niggas dreamed it, I have seen itBody warm, heart anemic (I really mean it)Coke, a nigga steamed it, fiends I leaned emBeemer leaned it (I really mean it)Guns, really beaming, rarely miss, whats really good?Bikes, wheelie and creamin (I really mean it)Im a genius, poppadopalis, never leaningOn your zenith (I really mean it)Killa, bury more mutts, they actually all ducksCaddy more trucks, its daddy warbucksAnd you orphan annieMa, take off your pantiesSea soft and sandy (I really mean it)Yeah, lets get lost in candyI got lost in boston, austin, flossin of course miamiReno, nevada sip pino coladaMama Im seen on the prada (I really mean it)I rock more in phoenix road to glorySeen it, you seen it (I really mean it)The game abuse it, its pain in musicBut this year, wrist wear remains the bluestI get lame and lose it, beef came to do itAim and shoot it, flames til your brains the fluidYall just kids, see what I just did, take a couple bars offLet just {blaze} live[jim jones]Yeah, now thats powerful music manYou need to pop something and roll something (I really mean it)Killa we did it man, I got your back forever, dip set (I really mean it)And them lames, we pop them sideways and drag them faggots (I really mean it)[camron]Ok, we back inMami listen (I really mean it)Hey yo lock my garage, rock my massage***** it, bucket by osh kosh bgoshGolly Im gully, look at his galoshesGucci, gold, platinum plaque collagesFrom collabos, ghost writing for *****sWant to use my brain, than give killa mad doughIts all good, increase killa cash flowIncrease my fame, thats why killa smash hoesYoull get side swiped, look at my lifeFirst movie ever, merked out mekhi phifeAnd papi got jerked out of pies twiceDip set, we working with five diceCee-lo and craps, c-notes and stacksI send bodies with, read this note attachedYa youngin *****ed with boys in the hoodGave her a son like ricky, from boyz in the hoodOn the couch bloody, old lady sighingWifey screaming (I really mean it)Pissy little baby crying***** upped man shit, there you seen it (I really mean it)Fam man, you terry cloth, that mean you very softGravy mercedes, add the cranberry sauce[jim jones]Yeah, gangstas ride man, flex we got you, guns up (I really mean it)And all my ladies man, the ghettos a diddy, I need you, I want you (I really mean it)Oh, pop something, roll something, get twisted, thats on jim nigga (I really mean it)Harlem! man we here to stay, its nothing left to say man (I really mean it)Eastside, and as for that lame man, now see I aint even gone say your last nameCuz thats mine, I catch you, you know what it isYou faggot!I aint gone get to hyped over you man, we gone bury youHolla!See if you bout it, bout itCuz we is (I really mean it)Nyc!
