Cam’ron – Oh Girl (Oh Boy Remix) Lyrics

[Intro: Cam’ron]
Remix! Uh huh (oh baby)
Diplomats, holla
Cash Money, huh, nothin’

[Verse 1: Cam’ron (TQ)]
When Cam saw the (girl) look at her shoes (girl)
Look at her purse (girl) all I said was (oh girl)
Look mami I’m no good, I’m so hood
You know my potential
But for you I might change my whole schedule
We’ll go shoppin’, coppin’, sweat suit juicy
Jeans theory, I don’t sweat no hoochie
I want the (girl) so she gave me the (girl)
Now I’m screamin’ out (girl, girl, girl, girl)
Huh, holla…

[Verse 2: Birdman (TQ)]
Hey, hey
See I mink my (girl) I thank for my (girl)
Than this yo (world) cause you the Bird (girl)
Mami I whip my (girl) spend chips with my (girl)
Hit the mall then girls spend chips with my cliques
See I platinum my (girl) satin sheets my (girl)
See I Gucci my (girl) chinchilla my (my girl)
Well it’s the Birdman (girl) see ya tomorrow night (girl)
Diplomat, Roc-A-Fella, too much money for ya, yeah

[Verse 3: Jim Jones (TQ)]
Well pardon me (girl) but I’m tryin’ to slide (girl)
Get drunk and high (girl) and not just the minimal
Ma you dealin’ with some criminals
And we always wear heaters
Them wife beaters and icy white speakers
Plus, I like (girl) that only like (girl)
That don’t make ’em dike (girl) but that make ’em my (oh girl)
Ooh, I can’t believe what I said
You won’t believe what I said
Until I have to catch 3 in the bed, holla

[Verse 4: Birdman (TQ)]
I love the Miami (girl) them N-Y (girl)
Them L.A. (girl) and them New Orleans (oh girl)
See them Boston (girl) and them D type (girl)
A-T-L, pimp, let’s get money girl
I like them Benzes (girl) them Lexus (girl)
Cadillacs nice (girl) Smith & Wesson my (oh girl)
Big coupe for the (girl) Lexus dupe for the (girl)
Get a Benz with them bubble eye lens for my (girl)

[Verse 5: Cam’ron (TQ)]
Killa, Killa, Killa
What about them Chi-town (girl) and them Harlem World (girl)
And them H-Town (girl) and them Seattle (oh girl)
It’s the Birdman (girl) and the Byrd Gang (girl)
Be prepared for brain, then you can wear the chain (my girl)
A thousand grams you carryin’, B
This way I can see if you can carry a ki
I’m from the valet, carried the key to carry a V
Married a G, now you carryin’ me (don’t play yourself)
C’mon (girl) go on now (girl)
And so on, and so on, and so on now (oh girl)
Relax, relate, release just chief
And you’ll be at peace, that’s how I reached my (girl)

[Verse 6: Jim Jones (TQ)]
Well let me talk to the (girl) cause if she walk about my way dogs
I got no choice but talk to the (oh girl)
For every (girl) in the ghetto that get some change
Cop a pair of stilettos and do they hair and look special (oh girl)
I’m in love with ya gangsta
But trust me girl, you gon’ be in love with this gangsta
So I’m lookin’ for the (girl)
So I can hook up with the (girl, girl, girl, girl)
And them brains have me screamin’ out “girl!”

[Verse 7: Birdman (TQ)]
Hey, hey, hey
See I Louie my (girl) bought rims for my (girl)
Bought tires for my (girl) new lens for my (oh girl)
Cartiers for my (girl) then I braided my (girl)
6 drop-top coupe no kit on the
See I lifted my (girl) car chauffeur my (girl)
Two-seater my (girl) new Beamer my (oh girl)
And then I flip my (girl) then I dip my (girl)
Me and Cam hit the block in them (girl girl girl)

[Verse 8: Jim Jones (TQ)]
Fuck the talkin’, not too much that the Jones can say
But baby girl are you goin my way, listen (girl)
Let’s get missin’ (girl)
I’ma hit you with the keys and I’ll let you whip it
Not to be so cocky and rude
My chains are platinum, my rocks they are huge (oh girl)
So, let ya thong be showed and ya top you can lose
And come cruise in the drop with no shoes

[Verse 9: Cam’ron (TQ)]
Killa, Killa
What about boricua (girl) Dominicana (girl)
My black miss (girl) my Saks Fifth (oh girl)
My crack flip (girl) my wrap wrist (girl)
Don’t act shit, don’t take jack shit
My stylin V (girl) my island V (girl)
My seven jeans (girl) it’s a f’in’ mean world (oh girl)
But it’s the boy, that flip the (girl)
So after I flip the girls, get back at the boy, Killa (yeaaah)

[Outro: Cam’ron (TQ)]
Uh huh, it’s nothin’ man
Cash Money, Diplomats, TQ, Jim Jones (oh girl, oooh yeah)
Baby, Killa the Don… (yeaaah)
You know, you know hoe money is slow money but it’s sho’ money
Harlem, New Orleans
It’s nothin’ man, Santana, Freekey (oh girl, yeah, yeah)
Weezy I see’s you man, holla

[Outro: Birdman]
Roc-A-Fella, we get money pimp
You understand, Weezy Weezy baby
Holla at yo’ boy! You know?
Let’s get the chop cross the chips and get the bricks with them…
C’mon, let’s get money pimp
Wooo! T-Qeezy my baby!
You know? I’m lookin’ for a girl, you understand
That can break me off and give me somethin’ lovely, HOLLA!

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