Take your time, young man.
Mama used to say don't you rush to get old.
Mama used to say take it in your stride.
Uh, uh, Killa Cam.
Mama used to say live your life.
Federica,
Live your life.

Eh yo, Cam, this rap shit.
How you know I love games?
It's like I got a habit.
Gotta keep the drug game.
Why?
Until we blow up with that ol' platinum thug thing.
Eh yo, what you think, lame nigga, I feel the same.
'Cause I be outside, nigga, cocaine and me.
But if it ain't about money, then it ain't about me.
Well I ain't in poverty and no one's starving me,
'Cause when we first felt heat we sought robbery.
Now, ain't that the pot callin' the kettle black?
I know y'all ain't gonna come out and front like that.
When y'all got knocked, y'all was dying in jail.
The way you keep on calling, crying for bail,
Acting like criminals, y'all some fake generals.
What you know about bail being more than ten thousand?
Peep the old way, how I done sold cake
Behind the closed drapes, on one of your old plates,
And the tubes of Colgate.
Two and four states, yeah, I can verify;
Man, a nigga never lie.
Go 'head wit' your killer schemes.
Nah, we gotta iller dreams.
Land in the Philippines, I got about four mil' a piece.
Kiddies on the corner, they got a lil' team,
And they keep frontin'.
Are they gonna jump me too?
I wish they would
Jump me, please, jump me too.
That's what I'm sayin with y'all.
Monkey see, monkey do.
Now y'all niggas can see why I want to plead insanity,
But what the fuck am I gonna do, this just my family.

Mama used to say take your time, young man.
Mama used to say don't you rush to get old.
Mama used to say take it in your stride.
Mama used to say live your life, live your life.

Now when it's time to chill out
I might pull the silks out,
But I'll do your body good 'cause you know I'm illed out.
I took an ill route, I might pull some krills out,
'Cause that cash and the weed, you know I'm still about.
Well, what you want baby, a description of me?
I'm frontin' with the ladies, having you picture me.
Well, I'm tattooed out, with a scroll of my fam,
And the long sliky hair with the bow-legged stands.
You in my V, in the rear, on the low from your man.
Yo, I do many things, but I ain't holdin' your hand.
Do you know how to scuba?
I got a house in Aruba.
But you keep it on low 'cause my spouse got a Ruger.
Yo, you see I ain't dumber, on me some type of tutor,
'Cause I been had the info, on the whores wit' the hooters.

Get out my house, 'cause I will shoota.
Federica, I will step to her.
Senorita know how I maneuver.
Mamasita sip margarita.
Messin' with Cam you get punched in your mouth.
Only key you ever had was the one to your house.
F a spouse me single, I'm one of the ones.
You think Cam's nice? He's a son of a gun.
'Cause I have heaters before them sneakers;
When Run had Adidas, and reefer was cheeba.
Although I'm an entity,
All those crooked crooks down town remember me.
Second home, one hundred tenth street.

Yo Cam, you violent.
You remind me of your daddy.
Eh yo, don't you really mean my three dads?
Ow mom, stop.
Why you hittin' me? Stop.

Mama used to say take your time, young man.
Mama used to say don't you rush to get old.
Mama used to say take it in your stride.
Mama used to say live your life, live your life.

Mama used to say take your time, young man.
Mama used to say don't you rush to get old.
Mama used to say take it in your stride.
Mama used to say live your life, live your life.

Mama used to say take your time, young man.
Mama used to say don't you rush to get old.
Mama used to say take it in your stride.
Mama used to say live your life, live your life.

Writer : GILES, CAMERON / GISCOMBE, JUNIOR / CARTER, ROBERT / VANDERPOOL, DAVIN / STANLEY, STEVEN / BELEW, ADRIAN / FRANTZ, CHRIS / WEYMOUTH, TINA
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group