Lyrics

Ooh, aah Uh-huh, uh-huh, huh Ooh, aah Uh-huh, uh-huh, huh Ooh, aah Uh-huh, uh-huh, huh Ooh, aah Uh-huh, uh-huh, huh Ooh, aah Uh-huh, uh-huh, huh Ooh, aah Uh-huh, uh-huh, huh Ooh, aah Check it out This is how I wanna spit it I bullshitted in the 80s (for real) I had to get my mind up off the ladies Like these worldly things A baby Beem and shiny rings See this is how we do things When you're fucking with the kings of the streets New York is all respected But still we keep it hectic, in places we be wrecking Where we from, Timbaland (VA) See that's my man, so understand these things Three niggas thinking 'bout cream Me and Magoo, y'all realize we roll with CRU (huh) All respect too, that's why your girl ain't lovin' you We peep the card in the steez We even got the keys to the bed where you rest Your life is based on stress So just relax, kid Because my mack days are in the mist And you ain't got a chance Like Sharon Stone on the Last Dance It's easy pants, when I'm running with your lady Ask your boys, I'm pushing your Mercedes So what nigga Writtin' rhymes is all that they wanna do (Uh-huh, huh, uh-huh, huh, huh) They don't gotta do anything else (They don't gotta do anything else) (Uh, say what, say what, say what) If writtin' rhymes is all that they wanna do (That they want to do) They don't gotta do anything else (They don't gotta do anything else) They don't gotta nothing else y'all, check it Dig 'em, court VD, now I'm sick with 'em Ate a pack of cheese now I just bullshit with 'em Kick 'em, nigga when your down, look I got to getcha Get away with the crime, that's the wrong picture I'm in a zone like a teen on a phone H-I with no V, but I stay full blown Hah yeah yo, put nick out the door You move quick but bitch, yeah you're too slow Get on your knees like a dog and scratch your fleas Somebody on the phone want to talk to your grovies But I got my life and Mary what's the 411 Niggas get shook when I rhyme, you best to fucking run Get out the way 'cause my recital's suicidal I'm the rebel when I yell, y'all know, ask Billy Idol Son of a bitch 'cause he a son and you's a bitch Me die for you, girl go dig your own ditch Writtin' rhymes is all that they wanna do (Uh-huh, huh, uh-huh, huh, huh) They don't gotta do anything else (They don't gotta do anything else) If writtin' rhymes is all that they wanna do (Uh-huh, huh, uh-huh, huh, huh) They don't gotta do anything else (Uh-huh, huh, uh-huh, huh, huh) (Check it out, check it out, say what, say what, uh) Writtin' rhymes is all that they wanna do (Uh-huh, huh, uh-huh, huh, huh) They don't gotta do anything else (They don't gotta do anything else) (They don't gotta do, say what, baby what) If writtin' rhymes is all that they wanna do (Uh-huh, huh, uh-huh, huh, huh, what) They don't gotta do anything else (They don't gotta do anything else, check it out, baby) Hear this beat It's done by me I do them ill beats, you know what I'm saying People always try to bite me, yo But they can't bit this one Huh, they might try But you know what You got to pay a samplin' fee if you bite me Like that, uh, like that Uh, Misdemeanor, uh, like that Ginuwine, uh, like that Aaliyah, like that Playa, like that Big Rob, like that Big E, like that Of course, my man M-A-G-OO And me Timbaland Jimmy D, we out for 97E Can't forget my man Elliot Only one Check it out baby The fight just begun we out
Writer(s): Timothy Mosley, Melvin Barcliff, Troy Mitchell Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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