Sickalicious - Fabolous, Missy Elliott

Uh, uh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, uh, uh, yeah, uh, uh

They call me G H E T T O

Get Black Star power, like B E T shows

I’m usually pullin' up in the G T slow

Flashing my ring finger with the E T glow

I’m that nucca, act rucka

Certified plat nucca

Semi-auto, gat bucca

Take that fucka, lay flat sucka

I’m the Negro, amigo

Get every bay from Tampa to Montigo

They say I got the lifestyle, and the E glow

I’m in the blow range, no matter where he go

I’m that homie, gat on me

I’m the kid not that phony

Anybody that know me

Knows I’m here to get that money, yeah

Hey, now get that money, keep them rims spichey

24 shoes on my Hummer

And they fitting tight, Fabolous and Missy, Sickalicious right?

If you a hater make my gun go, blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka

They call me F A B O L O U S

You just lay down slow, nigga

Know this before this, trey pound blow

Spit game, get dames to lay down low

I’m da poppy cholo

The cops say the tops on the drops is to low

I shop till I drop, when I’m coppin' new clothes

Bop in the hop but don’t stop to use hoes

I’m that new dude, that include

Making sure silencers in the gat is screwed

With an, 'It Don’t Even Matter' mood

And a, 'Fuck You, Pay Me', attitude

I’m that young boy, that slung boy

That’ll have 'em saying, where you get that from, boy?

I’m still leaving niggas, at one choice

So, run when you hear, that gun noise, blat

You say you rich, then come and talk that shit to me

(Blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka)

Buy your DVD’s and TV’s but I like shoes on my Jeep

(Blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka)

24-inch wheels and a good gold grill in the front

(Blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka)

Gotta closet made for big clothes

Gotta do more then treat me to lunch, uh huh

Hey, now get that money, keep them rims spichey

24 shoes on my Hummer

And they fitting tight, Fabolous and Missy, Sickalicious right?

If you a hater make my gun go, blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka

They call me William H period Bonnie

I ride in a seven series with Tommie’s

I make another on of America’s hotties

And I’m that serious, Mommy

I’m the one like the Jet Li flick, the private jet ski’s sick

The motors on the jet ski’s quick

The clips in the sets be thick

And I done slipped more shots in then Gretzky’s stick

I’m the one like Penny Hardaway’s number

That’s why dudes say it’s hard to keep my broad away from ya

Once your bitch, get the god 2-way number

It’ll be hard to get a 'Happy Father’s Day' from ya

I’m the one, like the piece that’s on Nelly chain

You can’t reach me, I’m out of your celly range

Bitch, I’ll even put canary’s up in your belly chain

And just to beat the traffic, hop in a helly main

Hey, now get that money, keep them rims spichey

24 shoes on my Hummer

And they fitting tight, Fabolous and Missy, Sickalicious right?

If you a hater make my gun go, blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka