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    The Diplomats / Lyrics

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    "I Love You" Lyrics

    The Diplomats feat. Juelz Santana and Cam'ron

    [Juelz Santana]
    People say my theories is backwards
    I tell them, sincerly, it's clearly, you hearing me backwrds
    I tell 'em I'm great, but still I need practice
    I tell them to wait, go and comeback quick, they don't understand me
    It's not logic, I'm not logic, I got problems
    I worship the late prophet, the great Muhammad Ali
    For the words that he spoke, that stung like a bee
    Soaked into me, you niggaz will see but
    I'm still insane, I'm Rodman, dealing my brain
    I'm grinding sharing my pain, fuck, where is the fame
    Niggaz, they still rhyming, still in the game

    They still dealing the cane, still cock shit in your brain, homie
    I still smell the rotten people that lay
    There in ground zero, forgotten, left in for days
    Probably left there to stay, left in decay
    Broken pieces of towers, left in their graves
    I pray they be saved, until then, that's just a suggestion I made
    Follow me homie, listen, I subjected my ways nigga
    Weapons that spray, at your fucking face nigga
    It's Santana the great, in the place niggaz, stay away nigga
    Cause I'm headed straight to the top, niggaz
    Diplomat Taliban slash ROC nigga
    Oh yeah, I do this for my block niggaz
    D train, Al Gator, pop niggaz
    Young drugs, young twins, Shiest bug
    Niggaz I love, my thugs
    Now, come fuck with your boy
    Jones, Killa, Freakay, come fuck with your boy, WHOA
    It's Santana again nigga, no bandanas just him nigga

    In the flesh, like

    I seen it time, business and friendship
    Friendships ended, business attended, clips get extended
    Lawyers get called, accountants get faxed
    That was my man, well I wish that he meant it
    It's been a long time, hereing the mobsters
    This ain't overnight, it's years in the process
    Shed a tear in the process, now process is over
    All my niggaz get prepared for the Oscars
    Back to the block, sharing a lobster
    Morris Malone, Sam Malone, preparing the vodka, holla
    Hallejulah, no hum-du-allah, but respecting my Aki
    He held me down, when it was getting real rocky
    Hustling, isn't a hobby
    I sit in the lobby, look at my ovie, have visions of Gotti
    Visions of lotties, pictures of Blood, scenes of L

    I wanna see my son, piss in that potty
    Jimmy, I'm going to make sure your wrist is real rocky
    See my plans are for long term like Mr. Miyagi
    Wax on, wax off, put our wax on, take that wack off
    Over some nights, I had fights over the white
    The roads to the lows, I knows what it's like
    Now, career over like Mike: anyone
    Tyson, Jordan, Jackson, it's over

    This shit right here touched my soul, man
    My grandmother or something, 56 bless her soul
    Apartment 56 that is, 101, West 140th
    Rest In Peace Liddiah Giles, Blood Shed..
    This song was submitted on January 20th, 2005 and last modified on November 28th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Rick Giles, Steve Bogard.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

    Song Details

    track 3 on disc 2
    Diplomatic Immunity [2003]
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