Top Songs By Lil' Kim
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lil' Kim
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Kimberly Jones (Lil' Kim)
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
808 Mafia
Producer
Lyrics
Thinking that I fell off, you got me fucked up (Got me fucked up)
I got friends, I got shooters, they gon' bust, bust (They gon' bust)
Think I'm pretty, why your mans, he wanna fuck, fuck (He wanna fuck)
He call me Wednesday 'cause I'm his crush, crush (I'm his crush)
Queen bitch, rich forever, you got me fucked up (You got me fucked up)
Ridin' round, twenty P's, in the truck, truck (In the truck)
Y'all niggas fucking MILFs, I'm a motherfucker (I'm a motherfucker)
They say, "You still live in a mansion?" I'm like yup, yup (Yeah)
Bitch, this ain't no glow for me, I'm trappin' dope-ally (Ayy)
I got pounds of that purple weed, it look like potpourri
Flyest bitch in the room, you lil bitches can't fuck with me
And I'm drowning in this money, ain't no fucking boat for me (Yuh)
A1 all the time 'cause I'm fucking saucy
Kim K riding shotgun, please, I'm fucking bossy
Ol' boy say he love me, but his shorty hatin' on me
Oh, lil homie ballin', but I'm way too out his league
Yeah, ooh, forty glizzy on me, but it ain't shy
Like Marie Callender, bitch, we sellin' pies
Breakin' bitches, can't be mobbin' I got ties
Hundred pounds of OG, we let it fly
Please don't bring me 'round your friend 'cause I'ma hit that
Thought it was sweet until I broke the bitch like a Kit-Kat
It's money in the mattress, I be fucking up a check
I don't sleep on the paper, so she don't fuck with the rest
Thinking that I fell off, you got me fucked up (Got me fucked up)
I got friends, I got shooters, they gon' bust, bust (They gon' bust)
Think I'm pretty, why your mans, he wanna fuck, fuck (He wanna fuck)
He call me Wednesday 'cause I'm his crush, crush (I'm his crush)
Queen bitch, rich forever, you got me fucked up (You got me fucked up)
Ridin' round, twenty P's, in the truck, truck (In the truck)
Y'all niggas fucking MILFs, I'm a motherfucker (I'm a motherfucker)
They say, "You still live in a mansion?" I'm like yup, yup (Yeah)
I gotta, you know these niggas they gon' call for me
I don't talk for free, let Georgie, Ben and them talk for me (Woah, woah)
I don't gotta cut my old school, he gon' whip that four for me (Skrrt, skrrt)
Got a goon that'll kill for me (Brrr)
Call that hood chivalry (Ayy)
And the clique keep going (Where?)
Up, up and we going (Gone)
Like Siamese, they joined (Yeah)
To the plate, filet mignon (Ayy)
'Till my new car hit high speed (Skrrt, skrrt)
'Cause bitch car be foreign (Yeah)
I'm in a new city, like I'm tourin' (Ayy)
Abracadabra, get it going (Louis)
Oh, forty glizzy on me, but it ain't shy
Like Marie Calendar, bitch we sellin' pies
Breakin' bitches, can't be mobbin' I got ties
Hundred pounds of OG, we let it fly
Please don't bring me 'round your friend 'cause I'ma hit that
Thought it was sweet until I broke the bitch like a Kit-Kat
It's money in the mattress, I be fucking up a check
I don't sleep on the paper, so she don't fuck with the rest
Thinking that I fell off, you got me fucked up (Got me fucked up)
I got friends, I got shooters, they gon' bust, bust (They gon' bust)
Think I'm pretty, why your mans, he wanna fuck, fuck (He wanna fuck)
He call me Wednesday 'cause I'm his crush, crush (I'm his crush)
Queen bitch, rich forever, you got me fucked up (You got me fucked up)
Ridin' round, twenty P's, in the truck, truck (In the truck)
Y'all niggas fucking MILFs, I'm a motherfucker (I'm a motherfucker)
They say, "You still live in a mansion?" I'm like yup, yup (Yeah)
Writer(s): Daniel Ray Hardaway, Christopher Lane, Malcolm James Mccormick, Dacoury Dahi Natche, Philip Antonio Thomas, Steve Lacy, John Bruce Macgillivray
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com