Hello motherfuckers, my name is Cam Grey
From the 937, came to annihilate
In my cape, light heavyweight primate
Young Larry Bird in the game, thirty three words, M-i-Great
Take my talents down to south beach, birds migrate
Shittin' on these cats, I just hope I don’t dehydrate
I can’t fly straight, two O’s and 4 lines on my plates
In other words, that my state (yeah)
I’ve been waiting on this my whole life
Every motherfuckin' chance I get I roll the dice
A&R’s on the search for the great white hype
I’m a beast boy, put em on Vanilla fuckin' Ice
Grew up in a house of pain
Probably never last, half as long as Everlast
I just wanna know What its like
And I’m mackin' more, than Mac, and Macklemore
These bad bitches wanna be my wife
Cleanin' my Rifle’s and I light L’s, while you pray to the stars at night
Wasting your time, I stay on my grind
I bet you’d find diamonds, if you mined my mind
I spit in braille, you feel it if blind
I’m Marty McFly commitin' these crimes
No DNA, like it’s pre '85
I’m back to the future, ahead of my time
Hello motherfuckers, my name is Cam Grey
From the 937, came to annihilate
In my cape, light heavyweight primate
Young Larry Bird in this game
I’m feelin fuckin rude boy, puffin on my doob boy
Change my attitude, my motherfuckin mood boy
I was smokin vapor at the Cosmo out in Vegas
Ain’t no Schoolboy Q boy, focused on my loot boy
(pew pew), Shoot if I have to
No blunts, on my Flintstone shit you know a dab’ll do
Chillin at the Rosie, pool side, in cabana rooms
My bitch look exactly like a young fuckin Vanna do
Vanna on some other shit, she be kickin moon rocks
Catch her on my mothership, with hologram 2 Pac
My shit be too hot, shittin' on the sun hot
I’m pre B.I.G. and Pac shot, I’m Big League and Pop Rocks
I”m all yachts, I’m no cops
No 9 to 5, fuck your boss
A 9 to 5 can’t buy a bitch a nose job
Hov told y’all better get them O’s off, that’s a little bit a different kind nose job
Grow the green in the spring, can’t grow soft
Got a dude that I know with a 9 to 5, that blows all of his dough on a O and hoe with a blow job
Me, me, me - I’d rather have no job
No 9 to5, no 9 to 9
Don’t hold the nine, no five and dime
Don’t talk on the phone, that’s mime time, it’s mime time
So if they ask the jury did he (Diddy), I ain’t doin' Shyne time
Hello motherfuckers, my name is Cam Grey
From the 937, came to annihilate
In my cape, light heavyweight primate
Young Larry Bird in the game, thirty three words, M-i-Great
From the 937, came to annihilate
In my cape, light heavyweight primate
Young Larry Bird in the game, thirty three words, M-i-Great
Take my talents down to south beach, birds migrate
Shittin' on these cats, I just hope I don’t dehydrate
I can’t fly straight, two O’s and 4 lines on my plates
In other words, that my state (yeah)
I’ve been waiting on this my whole life
Every motherfuckin' chance I get I roll the dice
A&R’s on the search for the great white hype
I’m a beast boy, put em on Vanilla fuckin' Ice
Grew up in a house of pain
Probably never last, half as long as Everlast
I just wanna know What its like
And I’m mackin' more, than Mac, and Macklemore
These bad bitches wanna be my wife
Cleanin' my Rifle’s and I light L’s, while you pray to the stars at night
Wasting your time, I stay on my grind
I bet you’d find diamonds, if you mined my mind
I spit in braille, you feel it if blind
I’m Marty McFly commitin' these crimes
No DNA, like it’s pre '85
I’m back to the future, ahead of my time
Hello motherfuckers, my name is Cam Grey
From the 937, came to annihilate
In my cape, light heavyweight primate
Young Larry Bird in this game
I’m feelin fuckin rude boy, puffin on my doob boy
Change my attitude, my motherfuckin mood boy
I was smokin vapor at the Cosmo out in Vegas
Ain’t no Schoolboy Q boy, focused on my loot boy
(pew pew), Shoot if I have to
No blunts, on my Flintstone shit you know a dab’ll do
Chillin at the Rosie, pool side, in cabana rooms
My bitch look exactly like a young fuckin Vanna do
Vanna on some other shit, she be kickin moon rocks
Catch her on my mothership, with hologram 2 Pac
My shit be too hot, shittin' on the sun hot
I’m pre B.I.G. and Pac shot, I’m Big League and Pop Rocks
I”m all yachts, I’m no cops
No 9 to 5, fuck your boss
A 9 to 5 can’t buy a bitch a nose job
Hov told y’all better get them O’s off, that’s a little bit a different kind nose job
Grow the green in the spring, can’t grow soft
Got a dude that I know with a 9 to 5, that blows all of his dough on a O and hoe with a blow job
Me, me, me - I’d rather have no job
No 9 to5, no 9 to 9
Don’t hold the nine, no five and dime
Don’t talk on the phone, that’s mime time, it’s mime time
So if they ask the jury did he (Diddy), I ain’t doin' Shyne time
Hello motherfuckers, my name is Cam Grey
From the 937, came to annihilate
In my cape, light heavyweight primate
Young Larry Bird in the game, thirty three words, M-i-Great
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