Ms. Martin Lyrics

Intro: Big PunYeah, sometimes you gotta fool emSometimes you gotta send a woman to do a man's job, nawmean?In this case, my girl hit like a grown motherfucking manY'all niggas better lay lowCatch you in a hurtin, nawmean?Blow your balls off niggaHOOK: Big PunWhere my girl atQuick to bust the mack, better believe thatShe always got my back, nigga twirl thatAbout to blaze a sack, where the weed atShe don't know how to act, cuz that's my girl blackWith that monster rap, better believe thatYou know the Bronx is back, she represent thatCuz Terror Squad got her back, some say heed thatMy niggas love to scrapVerse 1: Remi MartinI inhale the deepest, cock back and bust rhymes at your speakersI'm troubled, shoot out the air bubbles in your sneakersThe type to cop a Range along with all the featuresThen take the back streets to avoid the leechesA pregnant bitch talk shit, I'ma destroy her fetusHer dead baby popped this pussy, and his boys can't beat usStraight strong armin, bombarding, and bogardingRemi don't write her own rhymes, nigga, I beg your pardonIt's Ms. Martin I done broke night in the studio writinWhile fraud broads don't get no publishin, still be bitinThey kill me lyin, like they the ones doin the scribinWhen you can hear the ghostwriter, all up in they rhyminI flows like water, got this drizzle with little CCatch me with Pun eatin skittles in the middle of Little ItalyY'all don't know diddly, I spit hot, and drop shitEvery time I kick a rhyme, Pun I burn my lipTake another pull, bust another shot, y'all can't stop meCome through in a jail suit, and a new B from Broccoli'sDoin it, If I'm havin a good time and you ruin itI seen a nice casket that'll look good with you in itNew improved shit, the year start with a 2 shitNext millenium, sell a million, clue shitExclusive, to tell the truth, y'all uselessCuz I'm a dime that could rhyme you still on the deuce listHOOKVerse 2:Remi Martin, dash, reminisce, slashRemi, cash like a check in a stashMe without rhymes is like a flynt with no flashStripper with no ass, car with no gasTryin to go fast, I love to hear the guns go blast(Blau, blau, blau, blau) I love the sounds of the shells fallin downLove to smoke weed, stay blowin trees, fuck liquorWhen shit get thick, I love to hear my bitches raise his clique upYou sick, but I'm sicker, plus our guns is biggerIf you really wanna kill us, do it nigga, pull the triggaHow you figure, you could really come and take what's mineAnd all I gotta do is send a little letter to RahHe'll send the troops outMy brother don't hesitate to pull a tool outAnd I'm his little sis, so he taught me the same shitQuick to flip, but your name should be pricklessCuz every time you open your mouth, you suckin my dickTalkin shit, as if you a soldier niggaWhen you a no cash, low class, doja niggaY'all rock rocks, we bling bling boulders niggaLook over your shoulder I'm in the Rover, it's over niggaInhale, cock back and bust, just becauseI know none of y'all busters is touchin usI got the thoroughest thugs and, baby reminiscesThat don't give a fuck, with a aim that never missesHugs and kisses never, just slugs and stichesThugs and bitches forever, check the mugshot picturesFuck the weather, I still got my tan Timbs onJust copped the pink mink, and winter been goneI been on this thug shit y'all can't seem to fuck witMy shit is hot dogs, to top it off, still spittin mustardNo fair, cuz I don't care I go to war wit a musketJust give me some oreos, a jaro f dro and two dutchesCuz Pun be the nicest motherfucker on the marketNow he got the nicest bitch, what, Remi MartinHOOK