Song: Oh Boy ~~ 2002 ~~ 3:24
Artist: Cam’ron featuring Juelz Santana
LP/CD: Come Home With Me ~~ Roc-A-Fella ~~ 2002

Just blaze
(Oh, baby) Oh, baby
Uh, Killa

All the girls see the (Boy), look at his kicks (Boy)
Look at his car (Boy), all I say is (Oh, boy)
Yo’, mami, I’m no good (Boy), I’m so hood (Boy-boy-boy-boy-boy)
Clap at your soldiers, sober then leave after it’s over

Killa, I’m not your companion (Boy) or your man standin’ (Oh, boy)
Don’t hate me when you wanna get (Boy) rammed in, I’ll be scramblin’ (Oh, boy)
Where lots of mobsters shop for lobsters (Boy-boy-boy)
Cops and robbers, listen, every block is block

But she like the way I diddy bop, you peep that
A mink wall, water kicks, plus (Oh) Chanel ski hat
She want the (Boy), so I give her the (Boy)
Now she screamin’ out (Boy-boy-boy-boy)

Now she playin’ with herself, Cam’, dig it up (Oh), lift her up
Ma, it’s just a f***, girl, get it up (Oh), pick one up
They want the boy (Boy), Montana with guns, with bandanas
Listen to my homeboy Santana

Ya’ll n****s can’t f*** with the (Boy), I’m tellin’ ya (Boy)
Put a shell in ya (Boy), now he bleedin’ (Oh, boy)
Get him, call his (Boy), He wheezin’, he need his (Boy)
He screamin’ (Boy-boy-boy-boy)

Damn, shut up (Boy), he’s snitchin’ (Oh, boy)
This n****’s b****in’ (Boy), he’s twistin’ (Oh, boy)
If feds was listenin’ (Boy-boy-boy)
Damn, whoa, I’m in trouble need bail money, s***

Where the f*** is my (Boy), I got trust for my (Boy)
That’s why I f*** with my (Boy), that’s my n**** (Oh, boy)
He gon’ come get his (Boy), he got love for his (Boy)
That’s my (Boy-boy-boy-boy), uh-huh, uh-huh

When he got caught with the (Boy), we went to court for the (Boy)
Just me and my (Boy) and we sayin’ (Oh Boy)
Be on the block with my (Boy) with the R.O.C. fella (Boy)
When the cops come squallin’

Yeah, this is for the sports cars, Benitas, Jimmys
PJs, Old School, 18th at the Sports Bar
8 or 9 on the (Boy), holler at your boy (Boy-boy-boy-boy)
Killa, holler, listen

It’s the D.I.P. (Boy) plus the R.O.C. (Boy)
You’ll be D.O.A. (Boy) and moms’ll say (Oh, boy)
S***, ain’t no stoppin’ ‘em (Boy-boy-boy), guns we got a lot of ‘em
S***, matter of fact, Guru, start poppin’ ‘em

Then slap up his (Boy), clap up his (Boy)
Wrap up his (Boy), get them gats (Oh, boy)
Diplomats are them (Boy) for the girls and the (Boy)
Say (Boy-boy-boy-boy)

Now when they see Cam’ and his (Boy), they say, “Damn” (Oh, boy)
Santana’s that (Boy), that squeeze hammers (Oh, boy)
Canons and bandanas (Boy-boy-boy), glammers we don’t brandish
Blam at your man’s canvas, then scram with your man’s ???

And I’m back with my (Boy) until the man is vanished
Away in the Grand Canyon, these kids (Oh) are grand standin’
N****s demand ransom over them grams, scramblin’ (Boy-boy-boy-boy)

Well, f*** it, Van Damme ‘em, Cam’ll (Oh) blam-blam ‘em
Call up his (Boy), I’m down south tannin’ (Oh)
Mami, I got the remedy (Boy), Tommy’s I bet the enemy
Hire me somebody, but now my body you’re feelin’ finicky

Killa and coppa (Boy), we chill in Morocco for real-a
We got more chinchilla dough and film with (Oh) them hollers, huh
It’s the (Boy), I said it’s the (Boy)
I’m the (Boy-boy-boy-boy) Killa

(Boy, oh, boy)
(Boy, oh, boy)
(Boy-boy-boy)
(Boy-boy-boy-boy)

Transcribed by: Char Star
Uploaded on: June 2, 2002