Lyrics: I Love You
Album: Diplomatic Immunity
Artist: Diplomats, The
 

[Juelz Santana]
People say my theories is backwards
I tell them, sincerly, it’s clearly, you hearing me backwrds
I tell ’em I’m great, but still I need practice
I tell them to wait, go and comeback quick, they don’t understand me
It’s not logic, I’m not logic, I got problems
I worship the late prophet, the great Muhammad Ali
For the words that he spoke, that stung like a bee
Soaked into me, you fuckers will see but
Still I’m insane, I’m Rodman, dealing my brain
I’m grinding sharing my pain, shit, where is the fame
My niggaz they still rhyming, still in the game
Still grinding dealing the cane, still cocking shit at your brain, homie
I still smell the rotten people that lay
There in ground zero, forgotten, left in for days
Probably left there to stay, left in decay
Broken pieces of towers, left in their graves
I pray let them be saved, until then, that’s just a suggestion I made
Follow me homie, listen, I subjected my ways
To cocaine weapons that spray, at your face muthafucka
It’s Santana the great muthafucka, in the place muthafucka, stay away muthafucka
Cause I’m headed straight to the top, muthafucka
Diplomat Taliban slash ROC muthafucka
Oh yeah, I do this for my block muthafucka
D train, Al Gator, pop muthafucka
Young drugs, young twins, Shiest bug
The niggaz I love, my niggaz, my thugs
Now, come fuck with your boy
Jones, Killa, Freakay, come fuck with your boy, WHOA
It’s Santana again, no bandanas just him
In the flesh muthafucka like

[Cam’Ron]
I seen it time, business and friendship
Well fuck it friendship get ended, business attended, clips get extended
Lawyers get called, accountants get faxed
That was my man, well I wish that he meant it
It’s been a long time, hereing the mobsters
This ain’t overnight, it’s years in the process
Shed a tear in the process, now process is over
All my niggaz get prepared for the Oscars
Back to the block, sharing a lobster
Morris Malone, Sam Malone, preparing the vodka, holla
Hallejulah, no hum-du-allah, but respecting my Aki
He held me down, when shit got real rocky
Hustling, isn’t a hobby
I sit in the lobby, look at my ovie, have visions of Gotti
Visions of lotties, pictures of Blood, scenes of L
I wanna see my son, piss in that potty
Jimmy, I’m going to make sure your wrist is real rocky
See my plans are long term like Mr. Miyagi
Wax on, wax off, put our wax on, take that wack off
Over some nights, I had fights over the white
The roads to the lows, I knows what it’s like
Now, niggas career over like Mike: anyone
Tyson, Jordan, Jackson, it’s over

This shit right here touched my soul, man
My grandmother or something, 56 bless her soul
Apartment 56 that is, 101, West 140th
Rest In Peace Liddiah Giles, Blood Shed..