Lil' Kim
Lil' Kim - It's Kim Bitches (Get That Money) songtekst
Je score:
Y'all know who it is (NEW MONEY!) It's me bitches! Back up on the scene is the microphone fiend Fuck keepin' it clean, I'm keepin' it real green WARNING! She's hazardous, ghetto fabulous You can't see her with binoculars (You cannot see her dog) I'm keepin' it hollyhood out in Hollywood Put ya lighters up if you rollin' that backwood (put 'em up, put 'em up) Once again it's on, ya girl's back in the zone Maybe it's the beat or the seven shots of Patrone Like Cypress Hill I'm insane in the brain My niggas, clear the lane I'm comin' to bring the pain (She comin'!) Time for a change, ya'll all sound the same Y'all all makin' it rain, we makin' it HURRICANE Like a good meal, I hit the spot This is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot (This is why she hot) What you cowards forgot? I'm stayin on top I'm kinda like your album, ain't never gon' drop Y'all got gun and ain't never gon' pop You already know the motto, ain't never gon' stop I'm always on that green light, tryna get my team right Back to back 550s that's crème white Red diamonds like a inferred beam light My soldiers masked up like it's Halloween night You know the Apple Bottoms get the jeans fittin' tight Marsheanio bra got the titties sittin' right You know JT had a sexy track But it's gon' take Lil' Kim to bring sexy back It's me the trendsetter, 24-7 Star sweater 24 karat gold on astar leather, best thing since Donetella We in the club and our table's bottled up like a wine cellar Let's get this mozzarella, money is time fella The Queen reign better get under my umbrella Ella, ella, aye, aye, aye It's the Mafia La Bella Ella, ella, all day, aye... YEAAA Kim still gutta mayne American idol before Ruben Studdard mayne My sex appeal make you stu-stu stutter mayne My CD all in ya crib like brudda mayne I'm seasoned with all the right spices I'm the whole pie, ya'll just slices I'm hotter than Tabasco sause When God make it rain it's too cool me off Get that money, get that money Don't stop huggin' the block Get that money Get that money, get that money Don't stop huggin' the block Get that money Cause I'm bout to own the charts When I pop my collar, man I'm extra heavy on the starch Extra heavy on the wheels, extra heavy on the watch Jewelry like Henny extra heavy on the rocks My dudes on the grind extra heavy on the block You know I like my men extra heavy with the guap You lookin' for the dude leavin the club in the Galado I'm lookin' for the dude leavin' in the helicopter So we can toast, overlookin' the coast Just think about that next time you flyin' coach Yea I came home, lil' meat on the thighs I'm eye candy, real sweet on the eyes Yea I fucked with Nas, hypnotized B.I Damn, they even thought I'd marry J like Blige But naw, Kim keep two steepin' Two fo' seven is what I'm reppin' Lil' Kim for mayor, fuck with a real bitch Queen Bee nigga get with the real shit You need a fix? I'm the one to holler at Ya stocks went down, you can't get a dollar back