Missy Elliott Feat. Ludacris Gossip Folks (Fatboy Slim Radio Remix) lyrics

When I rock up in the piece I ain't gotta even speak
I'm a bad mama jama, goddammit, y'all people ain't gotta like me
How you studying these hoes need to talk what you know
And stop talking 'bout who I'm sticking and licking just mad, it ain't yours

I know y'all poor, y'all broke, y'all job just hanging up coats
Step to me, get burnt like toast, y'all suckers adios amigos
Halves, halves, wholes, wholes, I don't brag I mostly boast
From the VA to the L.A. coast, izzy kizzy izzy, oh

I don't go out my house, shorty, you just waiting to see
Who gon' roll up in the club and then report that next week
Just wanna see who I am fucking boy, sniffing some yo
I know, by the time I finish this line, I'm a hear this on the radio

Musi ques, I sews on bews, I pues a twos on que zat
Pue zoo, My kizzer, Pous zigga ay zee

When I pull up in my whip, y'all be like, "Who that is?"
I'm driving, I'm gliding, I'm sliding
Y'all keep talking 'bout there she is
I'm gripping these curbs, skurr, did ya heard?

I love 'em, my feathers, my furs, ah, I fly like a bird
Chicken heads on the prowl, who you trying fuck now?
Naw, you ain't getting loud
Better calm down for I smack your ass down

I need my drum bass high
Has to be my snare strings horns
And I need my Tim sound right left
Izzy kizzy, looky here

I don't go out my house, shorty, you just waiting to see
Who gon' roll up in the club and then report that next week
Just wanna see who I am fucking boy, sniffing some yo
I know, by the time I finish this line, I'm a hear this on the radio

I don't go out my house shorty, you just waiting to see
I don't go out my house shorty, you just waiting to see

I don't go out my house shorty, you just waiting to see
Who gon' roll up in the club and then report that next week

Yeah, uh huh, okay, once upon a time in College Park
Where they live life fast and they scared of dark
There was a little nigga by the name of Cris
Nobody paid him any mind, no one gave a shit

Knowing he could rap, no one lifted a hands
So he went about his business and devised a plan
Made a CD then he hit the block
50 thousand sold, seven dollars a pop

Hold the phone, three years later
Stepped out the swamp, with ten and a half gators
Now, all around the world on the microphone
Leaving the booth smelling like Barberry cologne

Still riding chrome, got bitches in the kitchen, never home alone
And he's on the grind, please let me know if he's on your mind
And respect you'll give me, Ludacris I live loud like Timmy
Uh, had to clear these rumors, I got a headache and it's not a tumor

Get up on my lap and get my head sucked tight
Sprayed, so I never let the bed bugs bite
I'm hard to the core, core to the right
Drop down turn around pick a bale of cotton

I don't go out my house, shorty, you just waiting to see
Who gon' roll up in the club and then report that next week
Just wanna see who I am fucking boy, sniffing some yo
I know, by the time I finish this line, I'm a hear this on the radio

I don't go out my house, shorty, you just waiting to see
Who gon' roll up in the club and then report that next week
Just wanna see who I am fucking boy, sniffing some yo
I know, by the time I finish this line, I'm a hear this on the radio