(feat. Remi Martin)

[Intro: Big Pun]

Yeah, sometimes you gotta fool em 

Sometimes you gotta send a woman to do a man's job, nawmean?

In this case, my girl hit like a grown motherfucking man 

Y'all niggas better lay low 

Catch you in a hurtin, nawmean?

Blow your balls off nigga 



[HOOK: Big Pun]

Where my girl at

Quick to bust the mack, better believe that 

She always got my back, nigga twirl that 

About to blaze a sack, where the weed at 

She don't know how to act, cuz that's my girl black 

With that monster rap, better believe that 

You know the Bronx is back, she represent that 

Cuz Terror Squad got her back, some say heed that 

My niggas love to scrap 



[Verse 1: Remi Martin]

I inhale the deepest, cock back and bust rhymes at your speakers 

I'm troubled, shoot out the air bubbles in your sneakers 

The type to cop a Range along with all the features 

Then take the back streets to avoid the leeches 

A pregnant bitch talk shit, I'ma destroy her fetus 

Her dead baby popped this pussy, and his boys can't beat us 

Straight strong armin, bombarding, and bogarding

Remi don't write her own rhymes, nigga, I beg your pardon

It's Ms. Martin I done broke night in the studio writin 

While fraud broads don't get no publishin, still be bitin 

They kill me lyin, like they the ones doin the scribin 

When you can hear the ghostwriter, all up in they rhymin 

I flows like water, got this drizzle with little C 

Catch me with Pun eatin skittles in the middle of Little Italy 

Y'all don't know diddly, I spit hot, and drop shit

Every time I kick a rhyme, Pun I burn my lip

Take another pull, bust another shot, y'all can't stop me 

Come through in a jail suit, and the new Beef 'n' Broccolis

Doin it, If I'm havin a good time and you ruin it 

I seen a nice casket that'll look good with you in it 

New improved shit, the year start with a 2 shit 

Next millenium, sell a million, clue shit 

Exclusive, to tell the truth, y'all useless 

Cuz I'm a dime that could rhyme you still on the deuce list 



[HOOK]



[Verse 2:]

Remi Martin, dash, reminisce, slash 

Remi, cash like a check in a stash 

Me without rhymes is like a flynt with no flash 

Stripper with no ass, car with no gas 

Tryin to go fast, I love to hear the guns go blast 

(Blau, blau, blau, blau) I love the sounds of the shells fallin down 

Love to smoke weed, stay blowin trees, fuck liquor 

When shit get thick, I love to hear my bitches raise his clique up 

You sick, but I'm sicker, plus our guns is bigger 

If you really wanna kill us, do it nigga, pull the trigga 

How you figure, you could really come and take what's mine 

And all I gotta do is send a little letter to Rah 

He'll send the troops out

My brother don't hesitate to pull a tool out 

And I'm his little sis, so he taught me the same shit

Quick to flip, but your name should be prickless 

Cuz every time you open your mouth, you suckin my dick 

Talkin shit, as if you a soldier nigga 

When you a no cash, low class, doja nigga 

Y'all rock rocks, we bling bling boulders nigga 

Look over your shoulder I'm in the Rover, it's over nigga 

Inhale, cock back and bust, just because

I know none of y'all busters is touchin us 

I got the thoroughest thugs and, baby reminisces 

That don't give a fuck, with a aim that never misses 

Hugs and kisses never, just slugs and stiches 

Thugs and bitches forever, check the mugshot pictures

Fuck the weather, I still got my tan Timbs on 

Just copped the pink mink, and winter been gone 

I been on this thug shit y'all can't seem to fuck wit 

My shit is hot dogs, to top it off, still spittin mustard 

No fair, cuz I don't care I go to war wit a musket 

Just give me some oreos, a jar of dro and two dutches 

Cuz Pun be the nicest motherfucker on the market 

Now he got the nicest bitch, what, Remi Martin 



[HOOK]