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Missy Elliott » Slap! Slap! Slap!
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Me and my clique Run thrugh the gutter breakin down shutter As the beat goes, dun dun dun duda Ain't nothing better than these favorite buttas It's like freakin wit your lova tryin bust his rubba Have him have him undercover like he thought he neva How the hell a bitch like me become so celva Yall wack MC's , y'all never never Talkin hard as a cock but is light as a feather Y'all suspect hoe's y'all suspect hoe's Takin off your clothe y'all reject hoe's Feel the rhythm, I'm bout to kill em Slap! Slap! Slap! Right across your melon, easy Nigga Slap! Slap! Right across your melon, easy Yall lil' Tryin act bigga don't yall get the picture Every freakin year I come wit something sicka Fan's takin flick's wanna get my picture Freak's only speak "Do you know Jigga" Strange muthafucka's wanna be my nigga Turn your man to a ass-licker Cheatin ass men means, cheatin as men Time to stop gamin and stay the fuck in Feel the rhythm, I'm bout to kill em Slap! Slap! Slap! Right across your melon, pronto I said Slap! Slap! Slap! Right across your melon, pronto (Da Brat:) You don't wanna get smacked right quick Wit a upper cut like this I don't give a fuck if you don't like this Still get paid to bust the right shit Still get paid to hop on the dick I'm a prostitute, I gotta a lot of loot But if you knock the boots,but at lease cop the coup What I'm post to do, starve for you This ain't far fa u, I can't crawl for you That's impossible I make the rule I pay the dues I wear the pants Bought the shoes, they Prada too Fuck wit me you lose Step to me and get brused Your chances are not few, they none So what I'm bitchy Roll a phat blunt wit Missy In the front wit me Tim hit OWW, wit the bang to the boggada beat Burnin em wit the heat It don't conser me, when nigga talk shit They just wanna learn me When they see me, I permentaly Damage they shit internally And Slap! Slap! Slap! em right across the melon (Timbaland:) Nigga, Slap! Slap! Right across your melon, easy (Jade:) I'm the M-S-J-A-D-E Toes and lows , bling like I'm B.G. I don't know nigga help, shit, I write my own Just gimme a beat and a muthafuckin microphone Picture this shit me, Missy and Timbaland We bout to take it to the streets, but they chicken ran Oh shit, It's gettin kinda hot in here Oh shit, Make niggas stop and stare Talk dirty, rock-a-bye a birdy Smack the shit out the Clyde Cause Bonnie should have pay me Get old heads for they checks that sign right And I get lil' boys for they doe on prom night Cause I do my thing, knots in a pocket Smack! Smack! Smack! All up in your knogen, early I said Smack! Smack! Smack! All up in your knogen (Timbaland:) Nigga,Slap! Slap! Slap! Right across your melon, easy
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