Something you can dance to Me and my click Run through the gutters breaking down shutters as the beats go done done done dutter ain't nothing better than these flavored butters It's like freaking with your lovers trying to bust his rubber Have him have him undercover like he thought he'd never how the hell a bitch like me become so clever Y'all whack MC's y'all never never talking hard as a cock rather light as a feather Y'all suspect hoes, y'all suspect hoes Taking off your clothes, y'all reject hoes Y'all feel the rhythm, I'm about to kill them Slap, slap, slap right across your middlin' Easy Nigga slap, slap right across your middlin' Easy Y'all little, tryna act bigger, don't you get the picture Every freaking year I come with something sicker Fans taking flicks, wanna get my picture Freaks only speak, do you know Jigga? Strange * tryna be my nigga Turn joke man to an ass licker Cheating ass man needs cheating ass man Time to stop gaming and stay the * in You feel the rhythm, I'm about to kill them Smack, smack, smack right across your middlin' Pronto I said smack, smack, smack right across your middlin' Pronto You don't wanna get slapped right quick with a uppercut type bitch I don't give a * if you don't like this Still get paid to bust some right * Still get paid for the hop on the dick, not a prostitute I got a lot of loot, but if you knock the boots, at least cop the coupe What I'm supposed to do, starve for you? This ain't Sparkle, nigga, I can't crawl for you That's impossible, I make the rules, I pay the dues I wear the pants, bought the shoes, they pride too * with me, you lose Step to me and get bruised Your chances are not few, they none So what, I'm bitchy Roll a fat blunt with Missy in the front With me, Tim hit me And whip the bang to the boogity beat Burning them with the heat, it don't concern me When niggas talk *, they just wanna learn me When they see me, I permanently damage their * internally And slap, slap, slap them right across the melon I'm the M-S-J-A-D-E Toes and lube, bling like I'm BG I don't need you niggas' help, *, I write my own Give me a beat and a motherfucking microphone Picture this *, me, Missy, and Timbaland Was about to take it to the streets, but the chicken ran Oh, *, it's getting kinda hot in here Oh, *, make niggas stop and stare Talk dirty, rocker by a birdie Smack the * out of Clyde, cause Bobby should've paid me Get old hands for they checks to sign right And I get little boys for they dough on prom night Cause I do my thing, nuts in the pocket Smack, smack, smack, all up in your noggin Early I said smack, smack, smack, all up in your noggin Niggas slap, slap, huh, right across your melon Easy *