I Really Mean It
The Diplomats

Cam'Ron:
Young Guru
Just Blaze
Killa, Diplomats, huh
Juelz Santana
Jim Jones
Freaky Zekey
Hoffa, Dash, huh
Killa, uh
Ya'll niggas dreamed it
I've seen it
Body warm, heart anemic (I really mean it)
Coke, a nigga schemed it
Fiends I leaned ‘em
Beemer leaned it (I really mean it)
Guns
Really beamin', rarely miss
What's really good?
Bikes, wheelie and creamin' (I really mean it)
I'm a genius
Poppadopalis, never leanin'
On your Zenith (I really mean it)
Killa
Bury more mutts, they actually all ducks
Caddy, more trucks
It's daddy Warbucks
And you Orphan Annie
Ma, take off your panties
See, soft and sandy (I really mean it)
Yeah, let's get lost in candy
I got lost in Boston, Austin, flossin'
Of course Miami
Reno, Nevada
Sip pina colada
Mama I'm seen on the Prada (I really mean it)
I rock more in Phoenix
Road to glory
Seen it, you seen it (I really mean it)
The game abuse it, it's pain in music
But this year, wrist wear remains the bluest
I get lame and lose it
Beef came to do it
Aim and shoot it
Flames ‘til your brain's the fluid
Ya'll just kids
See what I just did?
Take a couple bars off
Let Just live

Jim Jones:
Yeah, now that's powerful music man
You 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)
An' them lames
We pop them sideways and drag them faggots (I really mean it)

Cam'Ron:
Ok, we back in
Mami listen (I really mean it)
Aiyyo, lock my garage, rock my massage
Fuck it, bucket by Osh Kosh Bgosh
Golly I'm gully
Look at his galoshes
Gucci, gold, platinum plaque collages
From collabos, ghost writin' for assholes
Want to use my brain, than give Killa mad dough
It's all good, increase Killa cash flow
Increase my fame
That's why Killa smash hoes
You'll get side swiped, look at my life
First movie ever, murked out Mekhi Phife
An' papi got jerked outta pies twice
Dip Set, we working wit five dikes
Cee-lo and craps
C-notes and stacks
I send bodies with read this note attached
Ya youngin' fuck wit boys in the hood
Gave her a son like Ricky from "Boyz in the Hood"
On the couch bloody
Old lady sighin'
Wifey screamin'
Pissy little baby crying (I really mean it)
Fucked up, man
Shit, there you seen it (I really mean it)
Fam, man, you terry cloth
That mean you very soft
Gravy Mercedes
Add the cranberry sauce

Jim Jones:
Yeah, gangstas ride man
Flex we got you, guns up (I really mean it)
An' all my ladies man
The ghetto sadity, I need you, I want you (I really mean it)
Oh, pop something
Roll something, get twisted
That's on Jim, nigga (I really mean it)
Harlem
Man we here to stay
It's nothing left to say, man (I really mean it)
And as for that lame man
Now see, I ain't even gon' say your last name
'Cause that's mine
I catch you, you know what it is
You faggot
I ain't gon' get too hyped over you man
We gone bury ya
Holla
See if ya 'bout it, 'bout it
'Cause we is (I really mean it)
NYC