f/ Reeks & Bunky S.A., Vee & Goldie of the Advakids
|
|
*scratched*
|
Fuckin', fuckin'
|
Fuckin', fuckin'
|
Fuckin', fuckin'
|
Fuckin' with the Teflon bitch from the Stuy
|
|
[Verse" 1 Lil' Kim]
|
Ms. White, that bitch with a thousand looks
|
Come through with a thousand crooks
|
I just know what it takes to get this money like Blow
|
Catch a body, get a face lift, disappear like Pablo
|
Ya'll niggas think I won't jump in the heap
|
Well let's dance, you lames are finished
|
I serve all ya'll cowards like a game of tennis
|
Act like you want some of this and I'll give you the business
|
You see the yellow and black, you know what it's about
|
Wrinkled assed niggas gets ironed, to straighten you out
|
I got thugs in the east, thugs in the south
|
That'll stick with the aisly and whip piss in your mouth
|
I kept 'em on a leash and now it's time to let 'em out
|
Better pray to Jehovah, the game is over
|
Don't ever, ever, ever, ever underestimate
|
Lil' Kim the postergirl at 718
|
Ride outta town with my nigga, holdin' his weight
|
After it's cooked, chopped in eights the size of plates
|
You bitches ain't been through shit, you just minors
|
What you know about stuffin' half a bricks in your vagina
|
It's the dick licker, it's the baby sipper
|
Ain't a bitch alive can make a nigga cum quicker
|
Baby girl's pussy get wetter than a shower cap
|
Got my mans back like a Jansport napsack
|
And Queen Bee gon' bring you nothin' but heat
|
Homicide is lookin' for me for killin' these beats
|
You in the wrong department, this the upperclass section
|
You hoes is startin' to irritate me like a yeast infection
|
Good heavens, somebody get the Monostat 7
|
And hit me why don'tcha, hit me why don'tcha
|
The boss lady, I hold it down for my badies
|
Rappers better run and hide 'cause here comes the Beehive
|
|
[Verse 2: Reeks]
|
It's your boy, Money Cash, I get love in the streets
|
Breathin' dro colored Benz's with dutch colored seats
|
Lay in the crib on Tuesdays, duckin' the sweep
|
Nigga jump off, then get pumped off your feet
|
I'm like Rostein, low key and brilliant with numbers
|
I'm tryna blow sticky in Brazil with the Hummer
|
If you spittin' and I'm grippin' this tech
|
Then that's 32 shots, our throwback's like Mitchell and Ness
|
Man, I'm a project nigga, still piss on the steps
|
And keep the brim on my fitted a little twist to the left
|
I play the block, fifth in my sweats, reppin' my set
|
It's Rossie from the pharmacy, get it correct
|
|
[Chorus: Lil' Kim]
|
{*scratched*}
|
The Beehive
|
Fuckin', fuckin'
|
Fuckin' with the Teflon bitch from the Stuy
|
Fuckin' with the Tef-Teflon bitch
|
Beehive
|
Fuckin' with the Teflon bitch from the Stuy
|
Now putcha hands around your mouth and holler out
|
The Beehive
|
|
[Verse 3: Bunky S.A.]
|
Yo, it's Bunky S to the A, and my guns ain't warm
|
Beatin' niggas close to death with my house slippers on
|
You ain't a thug cocksucka, you a coward to front
|
Fuck your project, your building got flowers in front
|
Every chick I roll with, OZ in the cunt
|
I was OT in Mass, pushin' flower for months
|
Sprinklin' gun powder, oughta put a haze on my blunt
|
I spit a hundred and fifty bars when I'm blazin' 'em out
|
'Cause I can do that with razor blades stuck in my mouth
|
Forget a hotel, I'm fuckin' shorty right on the couch
|
Any rap shit I ever barked on, to hot to handle
|
And my rims bigger than lower Manhattan manholes
|
Listen up for 2003 tan rover
|
Stash box hold guns like Afgan soldiers
|
Wanna murda 16, well we the niggas you call
|
Queen Bee and Gotti Kids, muthafuck all ya'll
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Verse 4: Vee]
|
Uh, yo Vee The Kid, that's the name I earned in the streets
|
'Cause my bars so hot, it be burnin' the beats
|
Melt my pen, I have slugs meltin' your chin
|
When I throw you over the bridge, they helpin' you swim
|
And you better wear a metal hat when you rappin' on stage
|
Or have my bullets like e-mail, packin' your waves
|
Or snatch your face off like I'm Nicolas Cage
|
And it could be five of ya'll, puttin' eight in your grave
|
'Cause niggas think they hard, but they softer than bread
|
| When them shells hit your throat, you be coughin' up lead |
