No Doubt - Heather b

Listen to me get busy on this track, big shots to Kenny Parker

It sparked ya, marked ya, son, you’se marked for death

You gots to be more Man than Meth to fuck with Heath-

Er B, be breakin down styles quite simply

You’re causin me, hold up, wait, bitches is forcin me

To show that I’m the ruggeder, I keep 'em turnin yellower

See me, say to yourself, «I can’t fuck with her»

My rowdy nuccas got all things covered, what!

Pick that time and that spot and we’ll meet up

I’m leavin bitches beat up, tell yo nucca roll his weed up

Cause I’m yankin all you ass-stankin shorties

By yo teeth, so keep yo comments brief

The Lord-have-mercy's and the Oh-my-god's, plus the Please’s

You’ll be sayin to your Jesus when my rhyme style releases

So trick or lick a dick up, go find some fuckin work

Cause the only thing you gon' get around here is hurt

No doubt (No doubt)

(I fuck around and get hardcore) (hardcore) --] Biggie Smalls

Y’all remember 'Um Tang, Um Tang'?

Well now nuccas holler 'Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang!'

This be a Jersey thang-thang, nothin but street slang

Nothin but blunts hang from the lips of this lyricist

You try and diss, it’s a mistake but I’ll excuse you

Lose you, defuse you if you claim to be the bomb

Y’all corny mothereffers and y’all slick-talkin heffers

Y’all uppers and your lower lips need sewin together

Y’all talk more shit than Al Sharpton when the mic on

In person you’se a bitch with tight white panties on

Bitch-ass, trick-ass, you can’t rhyme

Prepared me for take-off, I’m leavin niggas flatlined

(*flatline*)

I came with that eenie-meenie-minie-moe

And caught a sleepin rapper by the toe

I’m undisguised, you recognize me

In the black jacket and boots made by Polo

A sister that be rockin solo

Over Thorough-Ass Bo, Tone flows with the two followed by three zeros

In 2000 I ain’t checkin for no heroes

I just wanna sit back and count mad dinero

And have the CREAM comin from my rear, yo

I speak crystal-clear, so I know that you heard me

Heather B be the one hollerin 'Jersey!'

Chilltown up in this piece

And the Coast be the motherfuckin East

No doubt (No doubt)

(I fuck around and get hardcore) (hardcore) --] Biggie Smalls

I wanna be more Illmatic than Nas

And have bitches breakin and 19in and maydayin like Das

EFX, I set, then set off, then re-set

Your whole sound set, your rhyme cipher or your blunt set

Shit, why you stressin me, ock, what I do to you?

Nothin gon' stop the rowdy type from puttin tools to you

Baggy Guess wear his ass tear us by the frame

Gettin ass to ass and smokin ganja by the basket

Rowdy bastards, we better batter up

It’s time to leave more bodies splattered up

Let’s gather up, round up

Grab a Phillie and a touch of the invincible wideout

We gon' burn on three different crews, from three different hoods

I don’t know who lied and told you it was all good

Not around here and that’s word

Leavin teeth on the corner and ass on the curb

No doubt (No doubt)

(I fuck around and get hardcore) (hardcore) --] Biggie Smalls