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(feat. Lil Dap, Miz Marvel) [Intro: Jeru The Damaja] Yes yes Check it out right here now, knowhatimean? Henryville, the muthafuckin bitchez wit dikz That's in the midst, of the real brothers whose the true wonders Knowhatimsayin? Talkin all that shit about this and this and that But fakin shit, I'mma drop it like this [Jeru The Damaja] Bad bitches and techs, and sound affects Talk but skate like Tara Lipinski, when shit get hec-tic Out in Brooklyn, too late you's a vick And if spend major dough on a hoe, you a bitch ass trick Pimps and players, no I'm not a hater Cuz I smashed it off, she bust me down I ain't pay her Shoutin youse a regulator, soft like C3PO, but pop shit like Darth Vader For Princess Leia, with flesh hard like Shaggy Your booty, when shit get raw you Doo like Scooby I'm snatching chains, mics and those platinum groupies And let it be known, I eat ya'll pussies like a porno movie Dutches, chins, and hips get twist Drop that bitch with a dick, and get a nigga like this Letras de canciones [Chorus: Jeru The Damaja (Miz Marvel)] You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz) Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz) Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz) When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz) bitch! You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz) Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz) When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz) Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz) bitch! [Lil Dap] You niggas are like East New York waste, spit in your face Open your mouth, swallow the taste, listen to the pace It's like showin the love, the same thing as pullin the club Spit it out, ya hoes know what this shit is about Bitchez wit dicks, and make a nigga mad as shit Cough the cough, when singing thru the streets of New York Holdin it down, but wavin my banner all around Cuz these whole motherfuckers, wanna round are town Thinkin they down, but dont know BK grounds bitch! [Chorus] [Miz Marvel] The next contestant left to be a secret lethal weapon Against half steppin, niggas is fake, I scope them first impression Take the mics possession, with the greatest discretion And quick wit, fully equipped, mental lie detection Ya eyes cross like an intersection You forget to count your blessings, all in the mix Sold your soul for it's weight in gold bricks Bitchez wit dikz, with chips like chicks Only talk with snares and tits In the time of revolution, be the first to submit Try to be God, but there mental seem unfit Speakin mathematics, but quick to kiss a crucifix Won't admit that their style is rip and counterfeited Contradict, sell their men to bang their fit, a moving target Thrown into the bottomless pit, bitchez wit dikz [Chorus] [bitch! scratched over and over] From Letras Mania