[Produced by DJ Preservation]
[Verse 1]
85 on 95, blasting sh*t from '94, flooring it
Pimp interior decoring it
Fuzzy dice, plus we nice
And my peoples' cousin in the backseat with the custom ice
Breaking dutches with the butterknife
We busted in the club like we Busta's gang
Bust a gang of dudes looking at us
But you's Topanga from Boy Meets World
Animated like manga, then boy meets girl
I caught his eye as if he threw his retina
Dress style regular, smile that beckoned ya
Kicked it like you Posh Spice and David Beckham bend ya
Wind around the conversation, I could get into ya
Said his pops from India, moms was Dominican
First generational, grandma New Guinean
Brought a Trini girl up in the club with him but then again
She acting like a whore, dancing dirty, grinding many men
Henny in her, Fendi on her
They spending on her, buying her drinks comma
I said, "You know they only coming on to her
Cause later they'll be c*mming on her"
He's loving the persona
They started playing 80's Madonna
Now I don't give a f*ck about this club
Do the white girl two-step to "Borderline" or "Burning Up"
I turn on the charm now
He's putting his arm 'round
We calm down, dancing slower to DeBarge now
[Interlude]
[Verse 2]
He whispers that he got the Escalade out front
I wanna be out but chill, pause
For real, I might think about it, think about it
And for the first time, peeped his neck gleaming
Like he's got a rink about it
The sh*t don't matter
Looked at his Timbs jacked up like, eh, something don't stack up
I must adjourn to the restroom; man, I'll return soon
Motioned to my people, let's move
Guess who stepped up blocking my path?
All puffed up rocking a glass back and forth
Neck moving like she doing the snake
Yvette nameplate shifting like she boosting the brakes
Now hold up -- b*tch is freaking the f*ck out
If she don't stop, man, she gon' get snuffed out
I don't use the word usually, b*tch -- fine
But it's brutally honest that I'm using it this time
And now I'm standing with my hand in the Atlas pose
Perfectly still, smirk on my grill
She thinks I'm by myself
But I will murder death kill her if she touch me
Visions of this whole club rushing me
Homegirl stand back, ready to thump
n*ggas stay in back of her like, "That's the one!"
Awww sh*t, this whole party was a setup
I shoulda known, you shoulda known, we shoulda known better
But then-a she got her crew backing her up, sh*t
Attracting the public, chatting like they rapping on dub sh*t
I look to the right to the bar, saw my homie
Standing with the bottle, tucking it with a scarf
She caught my eye, nodded quick
Leaned back, right fist, uppercutted on the Trini b*tch
And ducked down like I was running with Black Moon
Saw the Molotov fly by, we evacuated the back room
Oh Lordie, raced across the parking lot
Post-mortem or living, don't know what shorty got
Heart beating, we in the car speeding, sitting quiet
Tell my peoples like, "Yo, I think I'm bleeding"
Man, whatever
[Hook]
f*cking with n*ggas, you get set up
So dudes, know a sheisty b*tch, man, you should dead her
f*ck all that wild sh*t, just pass me the liquor
Da na na na na, da na na na na
It goes, f*cking with dudes, you get set up
So n*ggas, know a wild shorty, man, you should dead her
So f*ck all that wild sh*t, just pass me the liquor
Da na na na na, da na na na na