Текст (слова) песни: Jeru the Damaja f Lil Dap, Miz Marvel - Bitchez Wit Dikz

 
Intro: Jeru The Damaja 
Yes yes 
Check it out right here now, knowhatimean? 
Henryville, the muthafuckin bitchez wit dikz 
That`s in the midst, 
of the real brothers whose the true wonders 
Knowhatimsayin? Talkin all that shit about this and this and that 
But fakin shit, I`mma drop it like this 
 
{Jeru The Damaja} 
Bad bitches and techs, and sound affects 
Talk but skate like Tara Lipinski, when shit get hec-tic 
Out in Brooklyn, too late you`s a vick 
And if spend major dough on a hoe, you a bitch ass trick 
Pimps and players, no I`m not a hater 
Cuz I smashed it off, she bust me down I ain`t pay her 
Shoutin youse a regulator, 
soft like C3PO, but pop shit like Darth Vader 
For Princess Leia, with flesh hard like Shaggy 
Your booty, when shit get raw you Doo like Scooby 
I`m snatching chains, mics and those platinum groupies 
And let it be known, I eat ya`ll pussies like a porno movie 
Dutches, chins, and hips get twist 
Drop that bitch with a dick, and get a nigga like this 
 
Chorus: Jeru The Damaja (Miz Marvel) 
 
You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
*bitch!* 
You never see him the in the ghetto (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
Think they pimps, but they tricks (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
When beef come they skip (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
Turn to states evidence (Bitchez Wit Dikz) 
*bitch!* 
 
{Lil Dap} 
You niggas are like East New York waste, spit in your face 
Open your mouth, swallow the taste, listen to the pace 
It`s like showin the love, the same thing as pullin the club 
Spit it out, ya hoes know what this shit is about 
Bitchez wit dicks, and make a nigga mad as shit 
Cough the cough, when singing thru the streets of New York 
Holdin it down, but wavin my banner all around 
Cuz these whole motherfuckers, wanna round are town 
Thinkin they down, but dont know BK grounds 
*bitch!* 
 
Chorus 
 
{Miz Marvel} 
The next contestant left to be a secret lethal weapon 
Against half steppin, niggas is fake, 
I scope them first impression 
Take the mics possession, with the greatest discretion 
And quick wit, fully equipped, mental lie detection 
Ya eyes cross like an intersection 
You forget to count your blessings, all in the mix 
Sold your soul for it`s weight in gold bricks 
Bitchez wit dikz, with chips like chicks 
Only talk with snares and tits 
In the time of revolution, be the first to submit 
Try to be God, but there mental seem unfit 
Speakin mathematics, but quick to kiss a crucifix 
Won`t admit that their style is rip and counterfeited 
Contradict, sell their men to bang their fit, a moving target 
Thrown into the bottomless pit, bitchez wit dikz 
 
Chorus 
 
(bitch! scratched over and over)
 

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