Verse 1:   Cam'ron   My paper, yes, my paper   Got me sittin' on five acres, "Hi Haters"   Fly gators, coke cooker, pie baker   Drop-driver, girl-getter, dice-shaker   Try play us, your whole crew will be price payers   Knife-waver, gat-toter, life-taker   Nice flavor, real fruity like Clyde Davis   Sweat suit, fly Asics, (coke test) I ace it   I been rich, since 20, bitch   Gun right by the cash (what's that?) the money clip   This Gucci kicker got your girl in nuddy pictures   Sue me nigga, told me she want me to make her booty bigger   I'm the reason, true, but the reason she breezin' through (Why)   She ain't smart, she want a part in Killa Season 2   Get her a audition, get 'em in a mortition   She 'bout to dead 'em, y'all couldn't see the boy vision      Chorus   Cam'ron:   Come to our party   They drinkin' that more Bacardi, the music is hard body   They puffin' that Bob Marley, that ganja   The aunts and the mommas even ready for drama like   (La la la bomba")      Verse 2   Cam'ron:   Like fry chicken, they wingin' ock, me, I bring in gwop   I ain't sell enough records to have the things I got   First bring a drop, bring a store, bring a yacht   Bring the crib, bring the horse, chain cold, rings are hot   Let me stop, these niggaz like to sing a lot   Shot him in his hand, like his girl, finger-pop   Ain't no trouble askin', I'm in the bubble flashin'   Walther P.P.K .380, double-action   Played the restaurant, in the Yves Saint Laurent   Patent leather, black and decker, did your girl, played yo' aunt   Like a .45, I popped and dump her   Hung up, she called me back, tried to block her number   She could not get dumber, in the winter, blocks are summer   Your son my little man, yo' pops my runner   He washed the whip, said "Y'all alliance is gone"   Then he pulled out a wrench and turned the hydrant on      Chorus   Cam'ron:   Come to our party   They drinkin' that more Bacardi, the music is hard body   They puffin' that Bob Marley, that ganja   The aunts and the mommas even ready for drama like   (La la la bomba")   Aye carumba (la la la bomba)   Niggaz pull out they Llamas like (la la la bomba)   Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)   Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)      Verse 3   Vado:   Uh, I'm so cool, plus speak fly   You don't even hear the vroom when I breeze by   I see why, SLR, me and G-Y (slime)   Can't stop, hit the horn at least three times   They like who that (who that) nigga we that (we that)   40th to 4-deuce, Lennox where we be at   Here, take this raw too, finish then you re that   Banana clips sweep, six feet where you sleep at   Nigga believe that, that short change, leave that   You don't need a G-pack, the whole thing, we keep that   So what's goodie, black suede and hoody   No chain, I seen more bang bangs than boogie (Haa)   Yeah, I straight aim it fully   And techs don't wanna talk cuz my main man's the bully   Yeah this kid is the truth   I said "Killa, fuck the cars, just gimme the booth"      Chorus   Cam'ron:   Come to our party   They drinkin' that more Bacardi, the music is hard body   They puffin' that Bob Marley, that ganja   The aunts and the mommas even ready for drama like   (La la la bomba")   Aye carumba (la la la bomba)   Niggaz pull out they Llamas like (la la la bomba)   Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)   Like (la la la bomba) like (la la la bomba)