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    LIL' KIM

    La Bella Mafia 2003 ©

    Tha Beehive

    Fuckin', fuckin'
    Fuckin', fuckin'
    Fuckin', fuckin'
    Fuckin' with the Teflon bitch from the Stuy


    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 AIDS needle and 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


    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



    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


    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




    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
    The next step is to off you, dead
    I'ma cut your fuckin' head off and have Kim auction your head (Beehive)
    See the kid don't rap for love, I rap for cheques
    Even if I know you, I demand respect
    And if I put you in the body bag, your man is next
    The Advakid and Queen Bee gon' leave the game in a mess (Beehive)




    It's young Goldie, the Advakid, put you to rest
    I ride around with two 38's tucked in my sweats
    A pump in trunk and a nine under the seat
    Enough ammo to blow the earth from under your feet (Beehive)
    And we got cake for killas like Hyde and Jeckyl
    Snippers put red dots on your face like freckles
    Don't make me have to reach for the lead
    You'll think the bullets was rain drops how they all hit your head
    I'm that slim kid that they say is probably hot
    She only with me 'cause of what she think I probably got
    Am I gon' be with her for long, probably not
    Unless you're cute and suck a dick like a lollipop
    Niggas talk about guns and they just bust caps
    Niggas talk aboit ki's whey they just flip packs
    When it come to my money, suggest you gimmie that
    'Cause you know bullets fly in pairs like Petey Pab
    (Beehive)



    Now putcha hands around your mouth and holler out
    The Beehive

    2003 ©




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