lirik lagu touch the sky – cam’ron
[intro: cam’ron]
k!lla
n-ggas try to show me and make history arab
you try to sh-t on me and make history
you history!
[verse 1: cam’ron]
you got to love the guy
in god i trust, he trusts in i
when i get high it feel like i (touch the sky)
and yeah i dress to k!ll
i make it so you dressed to die, bless the guy
if he try and take the stand and (testify)
yeah buddy boy turn him into buddy lee
with four dirty n-ggas in some ugly tee’s (na-na-na)
and despite figures, you can’t fight triggas
drunk off light liquor light n-ggas
in the wintertime but i got the drop warm
snowin’ out showin’ out, the top gone (na-na-na)
i do what i have to do
they say “you little b-st-rd you”
“look man they all gonna laugh at you”
you wifed it in public
f-ck it, you like it, i love it
b-tt disgustin’, i’m disgusted, don’t wanna discuss it
look me eye-to-eye, we could go eye-for-eye
but pardon, i’m puffin’ on (la-la-la)
[hook: cam’ron]
reach out and (touch the sky)
look up and (touch the sky)
smoke a blunt and (touch the sky)
can anybody (testify)
we just doin’ what we usually do
nah cam, i can tell they ain’t used to you
[verse 2: wiz khalifa]
pounds on the floor, guns on the wall
if there’s money to make then i’m makin’ a call
blood on my chain, weed in the jar
weed in the air, 2 pits in the yard
handlin’ biz, cameras all over the crib
you broke and can’t stand it
to count this much money you need enough stamina
some went to stanford, i grew up on cam and them
makin’ this money and makin’ it fast
rollin’ a joint and i’m makin’ it last
reppin’ my gang, ain’t no fakin’ it
drivin’ my car like it ain’t got no brakes in it
now both my cribs got a safe in it
had my own swag, you start takin’ it
rollin’ one up and i’m facin’ it
got so much juice you could taste the sh-t
shout out to juicy j
he rock them louis shades
we all get stupid paid
i ball, let’s hoop today
got one, need two of them rings
look at me, see i’m doin’ my thing
i’m just tryna up my sushi game
old school sh-t, you’s a lame
[hook: cam’ron] x2
[verse 3: smoke dza]
sh-t, i’m extra high
f-ck it, where’s the pesticides
dibble out the bag, put the rest aside
fonzarelli flow, the cool’ll never die
ask me if i’m stoned, when am i ever not?
rollin’ up, you tryna hit this l’ or nah?
coped another rollie, i was pressed for time
tnt pullin’ up, but we don’t talk to swine
send the corner pies, hustler since [?]
breakin’ nights, blowin’ blunts on morningside
while you was in the nosebleeds at the drake & wayne tour
i was hitler with the pounds, got like 8 off
eatin’, clean the plate off, cause they lost
first cl-ss n-gga, make a flight before the takeoff
f-ck a label, ‘less it’s black label
indie n-gga but i’m that major
it’s still f-ck the other side, never lettin’ nothin’ ride
roofless sh-t, roof the b-tch, see if she can (touch the sky)
[hook: cam’ron] x2
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