Murda Mami

Lyrics

[Intro: Rick Ross & Foxy Brown] Yeah Uh Pussies don't get pussy Ooh Brooklyn Uh-huh [Verse 1: Rick Ross] Kind of short, dark-skinned, she a fly lil' bitch (Foxy) Be up in all them clubs spillin' Dom P and shit Know the boy stunt, Jonathan Kelsey clutch Yves Saint Laurent fonts on her bags to the pumps G's love her aura, Balenciaga fedora Lame niggas bore her, struttin' like she Kimora She'll take a kilo and stuff it up in the Gucci Brick of that raw, stash it between her coochie Niggas treat her like an OG First bitch in the hood with the Bentley Coupe GT Brooklyn is the team, Alexander McQueen Bustin' down a bird and balance it with a beam 5'5", slanted eyes, bitch walk is mean Boucheron bracelets and Armani jeans They're called skinny, my bitch is like a rasta with it Black car, red bottoms, only mobster in it [Chorus: Foxy Brown] I said, damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up '09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus Damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up '09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up, woah Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus [Verse 2: Foxy Brown] Ayo, Ross, tell them bitches who the boss The bloodclaat flyest rap bitch in New York Y'all hoes better bow the fuck down and pay homage I'm ten million sold and that's SoundScan knowledge And all y'all rap bitches sound garbage And me and Ross like the hood version Obamas Boss keep me stylin' from Giuseppe to my Blahniks The .38 special in my Chanel stockings Na Na got the llama in the Hermes duffel With the fly silver fox Kieselstein-Cord buckle The Dries van Noten pumps, Nicholas Kirkwood platforms So ladies, raise your glass to this mad song [Chorus: Foxy Brown & Rick Ross] I said, damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up '09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus Damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up (I love that, baby, don't stop) '09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up, woah (You make me feel so good) Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of (I love that, yeah) Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus [Verse 3: Rick Ross] Money ain't a thing, just look at my pinkie rings So many numbers in the bank, shit could never be the same Tom Ford velours, my drawers by Michael Kors And my watch a pretty penny, I'm talkin' hundred or more My Patek Philippe not for the cheap And my money in the street way longer than my receipt Dealin' with the money, no Monie all in the middle I'm dealin' with who owe me, opponents, they gettin' riddled Box niggas up, on the ropes Louis sneakers, Louis luggage, the colognes and soaps Smellin' like money, my body tatted with hundreds '09 Bonnie, Clyde, delivered it like I promised [Chorus: Foxy Brown] I said, damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up '09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus Damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up '09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up, woah Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus [Outro: Magazeen] Bombaclaat Magazeen Rise up di K from di gully side Shoot informant, make him hold his side Pussy violate, get mi pon mi gully side Murda, yellow tape, 5-0 ova side Yeah, we haffi take 'way dey life Gully side, rise up di K from di gully side Shoot informant, yes, make him hold hi side Pussy violate, get mi pon mi gully side Murda, yellow tape, 5-0 ova side Magazeen (Magazeen) See what we mean? (See what we mean?) Foxy (Foxy), the boss (The boss) In a difficult class (Different class) Hear dat, Magazeen, dat a di wol a it