Get Down

That’s my man, anytime I holler, holler with me
We shared chicken sandwiches—they were a dollar-fifty
Budget: seven dollars, nickel bag, and White Owl
I hope the chicken sandwich last us through the night, child
We ain’t care; we ain’t sleep; we were night owls
Insomniatics, our lifestyles compatible
Magical, Pops gone, shit tragical
Moms gon’ miss you; my house is where the addicts chill
I’m like a teacher; I need me a sabbatical
It’s not irrational; I grew up radical.

Cam’ron (An excerpt from “Get Down”)

Bonjour Vietnam