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    Foxy Brown / Lyrics

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    "Oh Yeah" Lyrics

    Foxy Brown feat. Spragga Benz

    [Verse One]
    I'm the most critically acclaimed, rap bitch in the game
    Coast to coast, stash the gat in holster girl
    Dark skinned, Christian Dior poster girl
    Mo' rockin Timbs bitch and the Gucci loafers girl
    Niggaz say I'm too pretty to spit rhymes this gritty
    Fuck y'all thought? Be dancin around in suits like I'm {Diddy}
    Pretty, show niggaz how we run this city
    Respect my name, Boogie nigga, stay in ya lane
    Like The Hurricane, rains on bitches like Sugar Shane
    And dare one of y'all rappin chicks to mention Fox name
    "What's Beef?" Beef is when bitches think it's sweet

    See y'all frontin in the streets and let my gat meet ya

    1- Why Yoooooooo, Why yo yo yo
    Why Yoooooooo, Why yagga ya yo
    Why Yoooooooo, Why yo yo yo
    Why Yoooooooo, Why yagga ya yo (yagga yo)

    Check, uhh
    It's like I'm in my own fuckin world, I speak how I feel
    Sometimes I feel like I'm just too fuckin real
    I love to stack riches, no disrespect y'all
    I respect the rap game, but I don't fuck with rap bitches
    I'm speakin from my heart
    It's not that I'm too good, I'm just hood
    Been like this from the fuckin start
    Since I bust my gun in ninety-six
    Y'all never see me flick up with them fake-ass chicks
    Bitches smile up in your face, turn around and pop shit

    You a industry bitch, I'm a in the streets bitch
    I might breeze through Prada, Chloe or Tiffs
    But, other than that it's just me and my six

    repeat 1

    I dream filthy
    My moms and pops mixed it with the Trini' rum and whiskey
    Uhh, proper set off
    Six sped off, gats let off, I speak calm
    Gangsta, and pours off like Screechie Don, bwoy
    Who y'all know rock Prada like Fox
    Pop bottles in the back of the cellar with Donatella
    Cartier wrist wear, Pasha Kay face
    Got niggaz stand in line just to get a sneak taste
    Act like y'all don't know I keeps gat beneath waist
    And like a hundred thou' each crib in each safe
    When Fox come through she a go done de place
    I'm like Marion Jones, what, who the FLUCK wan' race?
    Listen, never trippin, never catch Brown slippin
    Fuck, y'all only nice around mics like Pippen
    Shit, to all my thugs that's Blood'n or Crip'n
    I'm still shittin, still lowridin and switch-hittin nigga
    This song was last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Bob Marley, Frederick Hibbert, Inga D. Marchand.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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