Lyrics:
You think it ain't?
Turn off the gas and get some cookin' class.
It takes more than a hat to call yourself a chef, uh.
Show a little self-control
on runnin' with it
Yea I got soul
I was brought up by colored women
Shouts-out to queens that was
Raised out in Brooklyn
I remember I was on the outside
and a John Deere man
Saving your money, put a ring on her hand
Now you're raising more than a Silver Queen
In a little farmhouse by a field of dreams
gonna feed you grapes by the bunch?
And yummy little snacks, upon which to munch
The breakfast pan is put away but
I've got me a hunch
You won't walk out
little baby loves shortnin' bread
Put on the skillet
Put on the lid
Mamma's going to make some shortnin' bread
That aint all she's going to do
Mamma's
Ever since I was a little younger
I always had a ryhme that I flung up
Any situation that you brung up
Black Eyed Peas will shake a party like
want to us)
(And that we won't retaliate?)
Protect my motherfuckin' self, by any means necessary (right)
'Cause you don't know me, I don't know you
Nigga I'm hot skillet
These niggas sweet as skittles
I ain't got no time for the man in the middle when my pack could be a little bigger
All deposits
alright (alright)
Some get a little and some get none
Some catch a bad one and some leave the job half done
I was one who never had and always mad
Never
in a skillet
Got a hunger in our bellies and we can't fill it
Make a little love to heal some of the hurt
Good folks goin' to work
Pipeline boys
the station to channel live
That underground hard-core sound who said it'd die
'Cause if it is me and my nine's
The first to ride
For my niggas
Live by
more turkeys than bitches
With your fat ass
Fix your cash in a grab bag
By the time you touch your toes
Motherfucker I'll be in Baghdad
[E-40]
the station to channel live
That underground hard-core sound who said it'd die
'Cause if it is me and my nine's
The first to ride
For my niggas
Live by
he'll point blank me
I don't buy it
If it's beef then I'ma fry it
I wont toss the skillet, I'ma hide it
I Had off his skillet just for trying
Crease God
huh?!
Some get a little, and some get none
Some catch a bad one, and some leave the job half-done
I was one who never had and always mad
Never knew my
the feeling in my stomach
Any little more of something
And I'll be slumping
I'll be hugging that ground
Yeah, you can tell that I'm stumbling
I don't know
the crime
But feel like now, stealing time is so designed
A side suggestion
Tryna be more so professional, professors to you
But also out here tryna get
time, little more time
I'll wait
Just a little more time
I'll wait
Just a little more time
I'll wait by the window, I'll wait by the door
To make sure
fryin' size is pretty well near the same
So I like my chicken fryin' size and I bet that you'll agree
A pretty little chicken passing by sure looks
Yeah
Xavia Da Prince
What you talking about Willis
Aye
Man I swear, it's funny
You make a little money
You do a couple shows, not everyone
Wants you
a little pump
Little bit of acid, had a little fun
My shit's so cold I went a little numb
A little bit more or a little bit less
An itty, bitty babe, get
You asked me if I'd marry you
And I believe I can
Though I'm just a young girl
They say you're a decent man.
I've been raised by mom and daddy
With
he lookin' like a midget
Put you on grill, I put you on skillet
Gold bitch, gold wrist
Gold bitch, gold wrist
Gold bitch, gold wrist
Don't play with
I'm making more numbers, I'm making more digits
Day by the day, money liftin' my spirits
Ain't cooking this shit in a pan, it's a skillet
She spreading
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