lirik lagu this bitch – philly’s most wanted
[mr. man
b–bonic]
“ayyo, i seen the b-tch car over there, man.”
“who?”
“let’s shoot over there. ya b-tch! she over there with that n-gg-, man.
let’s get in the squad and shoot over there real fast.”
“yo, man, don’t sh-t surprise me at this point, dog.
these b-tches ain’t sh-t, man.”
“i know that’s right.”
“it always be those freaks though you fall in love with, man.”
“aw, they be havin’ good–ss p-ssy that hiiit! that sh-t be…”
“the only… be crazy, man. d-mn!”
“i know, that sh-t crazy as a mothaf-cka”
“yo, i can’t even explain that b-tch, man.”
[b–bonic]
this b-tch feel like wind from an angel, spreadin’ his wings
i’m gettin’ her things in jacob’s, gettin’ her rings
she got me, y’all. false playa fell for a wh-r-
i know it and she don’t say she one. the b-tch show it
how she give me head and how that sl-t throw it
lick me wit’ halls in her mouth and then she blow it
i know i shouldn’t like her, i know it’s f-cked up
thinkin’ like this hood-rat b-tch gets lucked up
’cause i’m trickin’ her, hittin’ her, watch how the d-ck gettin’ her
do a lot a sh-t wit’ her, never wanna split from her
i’m paranoid ’cause she had the nerve to ask that
if i die, could she get half of my ascap
different girl of the world, that b-tch want galaxies,
insurance policies so she can get apologies
when i’m outta here. b-tch, get outta here
not a fear, remember the name and i’m sincere, b-tch
[b–bonic
mr. man]
“hey, look. there go that bicth sh-t right there. park right there.”
“i told ya, man. i seen that sh-t when i ride. i rode up and backed
up.”
“that b-tch think she the f-ck, see, i know what i’ma do to her. i don’t,
don’t even let her see us. keep movin’, keep movin’.”
“no, we got the ten. plus the squad, she don’t know the squad anyway.
ya-knaw-i’m-sayin’? f-ck that b-tch, man.”
“i’ma f-ck that b-tch up.”
“she a freak, man!”
“i’m tellin’, i’ma gon’ f-ck her up. yo, watch how i do this.”
“you got a nice freak with you, man.”
“i’m a, nah, i’m a playa. watch how i get her.”
“see, i ain’t in to screamin’ and sh-t.”
[mr. man]
all i hear is ‘mister, i’m sorry. c’mon, let’s work it out!’
nope, you know too many n-gg-s, we could never share a house
f-ck, you tryin’ to get me robbed? stash cleaned out?
three o’ clock in the morning with a gun in my mouth?
b-tch, your p-ssy ain’t worth it, head ain’t either
toss me like a salad and charge up my visa?
don’t think so
from me, you see no nail, hair, clothes, minks nor dough (“that’s right.”)
7-4-o and drunk off ma-mo
and i’m goin’ to cancun and f-ck no, you can’t go
and you wanna catch a tan and f-ck my man too
sayin’, ‘i ain’t no, boo, is that cool wit’ you?’
i’m hip to this b-tch. it’s cool, i laugh now
while your girlfriends shop, you sit that -ss down
broke, ain’t ya, and n-gg-s just wanna f-ck?
yeah, i heard you givin’ up head for less than a buck, what?
skank
[b–bonic
“this b-tch”]
“yo! (door knocks) yo, open the f-ckin’ door, man.”
“yo, i’m comin’!”
“stop playin’ wit’, open the f-ck… b-tch!”
“baby, what’s wrong? don’t… (gl-ss breaking)”
“oh, you wanna be a f-ckin’ wh-r-? huh? you wanna be a wh-r-, you dumb–ss
b-tch? huh?”
“why you cryin’ by me like that? what are you talkin’ about wh-r-?
baby, what’s wrong wit’ you?”
“get the f-ck out. man, get the f-ck out, man! get the f-ck out now, b-tch!”
“yo, i can’t take this sh-t! i f-ckin’ hate you!”
“man, get my sh-t, man. oh, you wanna get; b-tch, get the f-ck off the phone,
b-tch!”
“nah, i f-ckin’ hate you! (phone dialing)”
[b–bonic]
oh, now you wanna call the cops? you scared? well, you should
say your name and i gotta hit high and hit good
hustle just to buy you sh-t and take trips
while you pose -ss-naked for n-gg-s and takin’ flicks (“what?”)
and i ain’t hate you, just tell me what it is
’cause i never had a problem wit’ f-ckin’ your relatives
i f-cked up happy homes but i don’t need that
i can’t f-ck wit’ you no more, b-tch, i leave that
[mr. man]
look, b-tch, pack your clothes and forget the couch
leave the keys, call your mom ’cause i’m kickin’ you out
this summer, no c-l-k and halter tops,
skirt, knee boots, hair blowin’ in the drop
uh-uh, you not
see, this sh-t gon’ stop
shoulda known the first night when i was h-ttin’ the cop’
week later, you dropped right back to dime rose and
i never been indeed out cancun for posin’, b-tch
[billy bathgate]
“yo, ‘bonic. yo, mister. listen to this crazy sh-t that happened to me with
this b-tch. remember that b-tch i was tellin’ you about? yeah, i’m chillin’
at the label with another n-gg- that rap and he braggin’ about how many
b-tches he got and bring up this b-tch name. i’m like, ‘hold up, i know that
same b-tch.’ i’m like, ‘nah, no, i don’t.’ but we got the same last pin
number. ain’t that a b-tch?!”
yo, yo, look
our love is like mary b. and k-ci
and i don’t wanna do anything else but make moms proud
throw karats at your finger, trip down the isle
forget playin’ house, ma, let’s make a child
now she got me doin’ herb sh-t, straight doin’ nerd sh-t;
charles jordan, lois faton, those type of fur sh-t
playas we splurge wit’, my chain wit’ ya gang
of sk-nk hoes, no bank hoes
it’s all the same
i brag about you, told n-gg-s i’m mad about you
now i feel like straight whoopin’ that cash up out you
what you doin’ in his contact? b-tch, you can’t see?
what, if it don’t work wit’ us, quit? is he plan b?
it’s a small–ss world but smaller industry
i thought n-gg-s do the pimpin’ but shorty pimpin’ me
well, sh-t, i ain’t let her go
i guess ‘gate dumb or ‘gate sprung but i guess what’s done is done
huh
[b–bonic
mr. man
“this b-tch”]
“i can’t even f-ckin’ take you nowhere, man, you run around f-ckin’
everybody, man. ‘f-ck is wrong wit’ you, man?”
“i know, why you doin’ this to me?”
“you gotta stop that sh-t, man. straight up, man.”
“i’m so sorry! you know i love you, fool, please!”
“you f-ckin’ can’t do that, man. straigt up, man. you f-ckin’ it up, man. i’m
tryin’, i’m tryin’ to get this money and make it aiiight for me and you,
man, you runnin’ around makin’ me look the f-ck stupid, man.”
“straight up, dunn.”
“i’ll do anything for you! oh! i want do it again, i
promise!”
“you can’t do that sh-t, man. ain’t no rehabilitation for wh-r-s, man.”
“f-ck nah.”
“you gone, man. i can’t f-ck wit’ you, man.”
“i swear to heaven, my life, please?!!”
“no, i can’t, man!”
“you changed the game, b.”
“i won’t do it again!”
“i can’t f-ck wit’ you, man. you f-cked it up, man.”
“it just happened!”
“why?”
“yo, c’mon, dog.”
“please, give me another chance!”
“aiiight, just hit me later on, man. aiiight?”
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