It S Kim Bitches (get That Money) Lyrics - Ms. G.o.a.t. - Lil' Kim

Y'all know who it is (NEW MONEY!) 

It's me bitches! 

Back up on the scene is the microphone fiend 

Fuck keepin' it clean, I'm keepin' it real green 

WARNING! She's hazardous, ghetto fabulous 

You can't see her with binoculars (You cannot see her dog) 

I'm keepin' it hollyhood out in Hollywood 

Put ya lighters up if you rollin' that backwood (put 'em up, put 'em up) 

Once again it's on, ya girl's back in the zone 

Maybe it's the beat or the seven shots of Patrone 

Like Cypress Hill I'm insane in the brain 

My niggas, clear the lane I'm comin' to bring the pain (She comin'!) 

Time for a change, ya'll all sound the same 

Y'all all makin' it rain, we makin' it HURRICANE 

Like a good meal, I hit the spot 

This is why, this is why, this is why I'm hot 

(This is why she hot) 

What you cowards forgot? I'm stayin on top 

I'm kinda like your album, ain't never gon' drop 

Y'all got gun and ain't never gon' pop 

You already know the motto, ain't never gon' stop 

I'm always on that green light, tryna get my team right 

Back to back 550s that's crème white 

Red diamonds like a inferred beam light 

My soldiers masked up like it's Halloween night 

You know the Apple Bottoms get the jeans fittin' tight 

Marsheanio bra got the titties sittin' right 

You know JT had a sexy track 

But it's gon' take Lil' Kim to bring sexy back 

It's me the trendsetter, 24-7 Star sweater 

24 karat gold on astar leather, best thing since Donetella 

We in the club and our table's bottled up like a wine cellar 

Let's get this mozzarella, money is time fella 

The Queen reign better get under my umbrella 

Ella, ella, aye, aye, aye 

It's the Mafia La Bella 

Ella, ella, all day, aye... YEAAA 

Kim still gutta mayne 

American idol before Ruben Studdard mayne 

My sex appeal make you stu-stu stutter mayne 

My CD all in ya crib like brudda mayne 

I'm seasoned with all the right spices 

I'm the whole pie, ya'll just slices 

I'm hotter than Tabasco sause 

When God make it rain it's too cool me off 

Get that money, get that money 

Don't stop huggin' the block 

Get that money 

Get that money, get that money 

Don't stop huggin' the block 

Get that money 

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Cause I'm bout to own the charts 

When I pop my collar, man I'm extra heavy on the starch 

Extra heavy on the wheels, extra heavy on the watch 

Jewelry like Henny extra heavy on the rocks 

My dudes on the grind extra heavy on the block 

You know I like my men extra heavy with the guap 

You lookin' for the dude leavin the club in the Galado 

I'm lookin' for the dude leavin' in the helicopter 

So we can toast, overlookin' the coast 

Just think about that next time you flyin' coach 

Yea I came home, lil' meat on the thighs 

I'm eye candy, real sweet on the eyes 

Yea I fucked with Nas, hypnotized B.I 

Damn, they even thought I'd marry J like Blige 

But naw, Kim keep two steepin' 

Two fo' seven is what I'm reppin' 

Lil' Kim for mayor, fuck with a real bitch 

Queen Bee nigga get with the real shit 

You need a fix? I'm the one to holler at 

Ya stocks went down, you can't get a dollar back 

Photos