*featuring Remi Martin
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[Intro: Big Pun]
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Yeah, sometimes you gotta fool em
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Sometimes you gotta send a woman to do a man's job, nawmean?
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In this case, my girl hit like a grown motherfucking man
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Y'all niggas better lay low
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Catch you in a hurtin, nawmean?
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Blow your balls off nigga
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[HOOK: Big Pun]
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Where my girl at
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Quick to bust the mack, better believe that
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She always got my back, nigga twirl that
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About to blaze a sack, where the weed at
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She don't know how to act, cuz that's my girl black
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With that monster rap, better believe that
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You know the Bronx is back, she represent that
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Cuz Terror Squad got her back, some say heed that
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My niggas love to scrap
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[Verse 1: Remi Martin]
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I inhale the deepest, cock back and bust rhymes at your speakers
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I'm troubled, shoot out the air bubbles in your sneakers
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The type to cop a Range along with all the features
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Then take the back streets to avoid the leeches
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A pregnant bitch talk shit, I'ma destroy her fetus
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Her dead baby popped this pussy, and his boys can't beat us
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Straight strong armin, bombarding, and bogarding
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Remi don't write her own rhymes, nigga, I beg your pardon
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It's Ms. Martin I done broke night in the studio writin
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While fraud broads don't get no publishin, still be bitin
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They kill me lyin, like they the ones doin the scribin
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When you can hear the ghostwriter, all up in they rhymin
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I flows like water, got this drizzle with little C
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Catch me with Pun eatin skittles in the middle of Little Italy
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Y'all don't know diddly, I spit hot, and drop shit
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Every time I kick a rhyme, Pun I burn my lip
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Take another pull, bust another shot, y'all can't stop me
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Come through in a jail suit, and the new Beef 'n' Broccolis
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Doin it, If I'm havin a good time and you ruin it
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I seen a nice casket that'll look good with you in it
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New improved shit, the year start with a 2 shit
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Next millenium, sell a million, clue shit
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Exclusive, to tell the truth, y'all useless
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Cuz I'm a dime that could rhyme you still on the deuce list
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[HOOK]
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[Verse 2:]
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Remi Martin, dash, reminisce, slash
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Remi, cash like a check in a stash
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Me without rhymes is like a flynt with no flash
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Stripper with no ass, car with no gas
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Tryin to go fast, I love to hear the guns go blast
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(Blau, blau, blau, blau) I love the sounds of the shells fallin down
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Love to smoke weed, stay blowin trees, fuck liquor
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When shit get thick, I love to hear my bitches raise his clique up
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You sick, but I'm sicker, plus our guns is bigger
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If you really wanna kill us, do it nigga, pull the trigga
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How you figure, you could really come and take what's mine
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And all I gotta do is send a little letter to Rah
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He'll send the troops out
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My brother don't hesitate to pull a tool out
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And I'm his little sis, so he taught me the same shit
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Quick to flip, but your name should be prickless
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Cuz every time you open your mouth, you suckin my dick
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Talkin shit, as if you a soldier nigga
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When you a no cash, low class, doja nigga
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Y'all rock rocks, we bling bling boulders nigga
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Look over your shoulder I'm in the Rover, it's over nigga
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Inhale, cock back and bust, just because
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I know none of y'all busters is touchin us
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I got the thoroughest thugs and, baby reminisces
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That don't give a fuck, with a aim that never misses
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Hugs and kisses never, just slugs and stiches
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Thugs and bitches forever, check the mugshot pictures
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Fuck the weather, I still got my tan Timbs on
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Just copped the pink mink, and winter been gone
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I been on this thug shit y'all can't seem to fuck wit
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My shit is hot dogs, to top it off, still spittin mustard
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No fair, cuz I don't care I go to war wit a musket
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Just give me some oreos, a jar of dro and two dutches
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Cuz Pun be the nicest motherfucker on the market
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Now he got the nicest bitch, what, Remi Martin
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[HOOK]
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-----------------
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Ms. Martin
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Big Punisher |