Missy Elliott | Lyrics | Dangerous Mouths

3000 baby, raunchy, raunchy

Good riddance, to niggas and b****** bullshittin'
I house MC's like baths and full kitchens, ready or not
Doc,hood lynchin', icey flows, I write with wool mittens
It's two not one, Missy dot dot com

Come once in the blue like free hot lunch
So once it's on, turn it up, chickens flockin' in
Shoppin' at birds are us, murderous
Don't blame me, blame the music
I write with napalms in my hands

Flame the fuses, like a piss, off you go
I'm nice battin', I practice when the park is closed
I'm that man who squats out of jeeps and vans
Jump to roof to roof on the TV cam, I f*** a model

I go out with the cheapest tramps, pussy have me trippin'
Like Kima, Keisha and Pam, I remain cool like
Like open house on a school night
Animal House gettin' thrown out for food fights

P P P strictly don't give a f***
An Brick City niggas strictly don't give a f***
Let me intervene, come between
Like dick through your jeans

Hang down to your knees, it's mwa
The don-wan, carry on, D A N to the danger
Y'all MC's in a whole lot of danger
Change up all your rhymes you need beats

My beats you see completely unique, forgive thee
See it's the shots of Hennessey that's in me
Reggie Noble through after me

It takes two to tingle, and two to f***
I done f***** in Range Roves to Isuzu trucks
Used to move weight now you makin' moves to duck
Built solid without bolts, screws and nuts

Pussy tight Jiffy Lube it up, Doc came up, hoes use to hang up
Now my arm close hang up, my crew is deeper than Karl Kani pockets
We don't buy bullets, we ask what size rockets for thee occasion
One shot will have you ravin', like Symone when the four four is blown

Two minutes later I'll make it hotter, snap you from the vine
To my um blada a boom glada

So what you wanna do, what you wanna do
Yo I got the chicken, the brew taken next
And much room Def Squad in the house
Drop you drawers, tell your boyfriend ease up, and park his car

I'm from the south you better watch your mouth, it's the M.I.
The S.I., if you try then you die
I don't take no mercy on you suckers so
Would you still be in love baby, if I cut your throat

Cut the jokes I ain't got no love for yo
No friends with those who imitate me ya bold my style I own
I'ma have to steal your flow
You know me Joe, I gotta say no more, b****

That's right nigga, it's Misdemeanor here, Redman, Timbaland
Muthafucka three triple zero, the matrix baby
I'm out