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Ms. Martin
Big Pun featuring Remi Martin
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Sometimes you gotta fool 'em
Sometimes you gotta send a woman to do a man's job, yaknahmean?
In this case, my girl hit like a grown motherfuckin' man
You better lay low, catch you where it hurt, yaknahmean?
Blow your balls off, yo
Where my girl at? Quick to bust the MAC
Better believe that, she always got my back
Fuck twelve, that, I'm 'bout to blaze a sack
Where the weed at? She don't know how to act
'Cause that's my girl Black, with that monster rap
Better believe that, you know the Bronx is back
She represent that, 'cause Terror Squad got her back
Some say heed that, my niggas love to scrap
I inhale the deepest, cock back and bust rhymes at your speakers
I'm trouble, shoot out the air bubbles in your sneakers
The type to cop a Range, along with all the features
Then take the back streets to avoid the leeches
A pregnant bitch talk shit, I'ma destroy her pussy
Her dead nigga popped his pussy, and his boys can't beat us
Straight strong-armin', bombardin' and bogartin'
Remy don't write her own rhymes, bitch, I beg your pardon
It's Ms. Martin, I done broke night in the studio writin'
While fraud broads don't get no publishin', still be bitin'
They kill me lyin', like they the ones doin' the scribin'
When you can hear the ghostwriter all up in they rhymin'
I flows like water, y'all just drizzle with little C
Catch me with Pun eatin' Skittles in the middle of Little Italy
Y'all don't know diddly, I spit hot, and drop shit
Every time I kick a rhyme, Pun, I burn my lip
Take another pull, bust another shot, y'all can't stop me
Come through in a jail suit, and a new B from Broccolis
Doin' it, if I'm havin' a good time and you ruin it
I seen a nice casket that'll look good with you in it
New improved shit, the year start with a two shit
Next millennium, sell a million, Clue shit
Exclusive, to tell the truth, y'all useless
'Cause I'm a dime that can rhyme and you still on the deuce list
Where my girl at? Quick to bust the MAC
Better believe that, she always got my back
Fuck twelve, that, I'm 'bout to blaze a sack
Where the weed at? She don't know how to act
'Cause that's my girl Black, with that monster rap
Better believe that, you know the Bronx is back
She represent that, 'cause Terror Squad got her back
Some say heed that, my niggas love to scrap
Remy Martin, dash, reminisce, slash
Remy, cash, like a check in the stash
Me without rhymes is like a flick with no flash
Stripper with no ass, car with no gas
Tryna go fast, I love to hear the guns go blast (Plow, plow, plow)
I love the sound of the shells fallin' down
Love to smoke weed, stay blowin' trees, fuck liquor
When shit get thick, I love to hear my bitch razors click up
You sick, but I'm sicker, plus our guns is bigger
If you really wanna kill us, do it, nigga, pull the trigger
How you figure, you could really come and take what's mines?
And all I gotta do is send a little letter to Ra
He'll send the troops out, my brother
Don't hesitate to pull a tool out
And I'm his little sis', so he taught me the same shit
Quick to flip, but your name should be "Bit-Cha"
'Cause every time you open your mouth, you suckin' my dick
Talkin' shit, as if you a soldier, nigga
When you a no-cash, low-class, doja nigga
Y'all rock rocks, we bling-bling-bosers, nigga
Look over your shoulder, I'm in a Rover, it's over, nigga
Inhale, cock back, and bust, just because
I know none of y'all busters is touchin' us
I got the thoroughest thugs and baby Reminices
That don't give a fuck, with a aim that never misses
Hugs and kisses, never, just slugs and stitches
Thugs and bitches forever, check the mugshot pictures
Fuck the weather, I still got my tan Timbs on
Just copped a pink mink, and winter been gone
I been on this thug shit y'all can't seem to fuck with
My niggas hot dogs, to top it off, still spittin' mustard
No fair, 'cause I don't care, I'll go to war with a musket
Just give me some Oreos, a jar of 'dro and two dutches
'Cause Pun be the nicest motherfucker on the market
Now he got the nicest bitch, what? Remy Martin
Where my girl at? Quick to bust the MAC
Better believe that, she always got my back
Fuck twelve, that, I'm 'bout to blaze a sack
Where the weed at? She don't know how to act
'Cause that's my girl Black, with that monster rap
Better believe that, you know the Bronx is back
She represent that, 'cause Terror Squad got her back
Some say heed that, my niggas love to scrap
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