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Big Punisher feat. Remi Martin Miscellaneous Ms. Martin Big Punisher feat. Remi Martin Ms. Martin Sometimes you gotta send a woman to do a man's job, nawmean? In this case, my girl hit like a grown motherfucking man Y'all niggas better lay low Catch you in a hurtin, nawmean? Blow your balls off nigga HOOK: Big Pun Where my girl at Quick to bust the mack, better believe that She always got my back, nigga twirl that About to blaze a sack, where the weed at She don't know how to act, cuz that's my girl black With that monster rap, better believe that You know the Bronx is back, she represent that Cuz Terror Squad got her back, some say heed that My niggas love to scrap Verse 1: Remi Martin I inhale the deepest, cock back and bust rhymes at your speakers I'm troubled, 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 fetus Her dead baby popped this pussy, and his boys can't beat us Straight strong armin, bombarding, and bogarding Remi don't write her own rhymes, nigga, 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, got this 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 the new Beef 'n' 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 2 shit Next millenium, sell a million, clue shit Exclusive, to tell the truth, y'all useless Cuz I'm a dime that could rhyme you still on the deuce list HOOK Verse 2: Remi Martin, dash, reminisce, slash Remi, cash like a check in a stash Me without rhymes is like a flynt with no flash Stripper with no ass, car with no gas Tryin to go fast, I love to hear the guns go blast (Blau, blau, blau, blau) I love the sounds of the shells fallin down Love to smoke weed, stay blowin trees, fuck liquor When shit get thick, I love to hear my bitches raise his clique up You sick, but I'm sicker, plus our guns is bigger If you really wanna kill us, do it nigga, pull the trigga How you figure, you could really come and take what's mine And all I gotta do is send a little letter to Rah 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 prickless Cuz 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 boulders nigga Look over your shoulder I'm in the 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 reminisces That don't give a fuck, with a aim that never misses Hugs and kisses never, just slugs and stiches Thugs and bitches forever, check the mugshot pictures Fuck the weather, I still got my tan Timbs on Just copped the pink mink, and winter been gone I been on this thug shit y'all can't seem to fuck wit My shit is hot dogs, to top it off, still spittin mustard No fair, cuz I don't care I go to war wit a musket Just give me some oreos, a jar of dro and two dutches Cuz Pun be the nicest motherfucker on the market Now he got the nicest bitch, what, Remi Martin HOOK |
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