Clipse — Aint Cha

[Chorus: Pusha T] Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha? Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha? Hmm, gon' get your Air Force plane, ain't cha? Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha? [Verse 1: Pusha T] Through despair, I traipse, bakin' pies, makin' cake Hustling them E's and that C and that H While you probably talking frantic on the tape Niggas in the hood ain't tryna hear, "Man, it was a mistake" They'll call you a bitch, not a bandit at your wake Epitaph reading how much damage you could take While I'm on the boat with your bitch, salmon on her plate I know why you liked her, the head, it was great Lovin' these bezel-set chains with no space Eighty-six karats, you know how much diggin' in the planet this could take? Patent leather Bapes (Uh, uh) Closet like Planet of the Bapes Monkey see, monkey do, monkeys following in place Like I'm living in an episode of Planet of the Apes You're watching the evolution of one of rap's greats You niggas tryna take my place? Never happen [Chorus: Pusha T] Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha? Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha? Hmm, gon' get your Air Force plane, ain't cha? Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha? [Verse 2: Sandman] Dig it, every time I do it, encore Slide out the Lincoln with the suicide doors My, am I blingin' like Baby with all that shit on My block pop 'til all that shit gone What? You pussies hardly eatin' What you spend on a home is a gaudy piece On the chest of a biz-oss, it's a must I fliz-oss My dream team wrestle for cheese like Eric Bischoff From the kickoff to tipoff I give off rays from the VVs, ice glazed like lip gloss Thinkin' they can see me, I beg to differ Look up in the skiz-y, it's the Big Dipper (That's cold) It's chilly in Philly, it's that real Nobody know karate, more bodies than Kill Bill Somebody get beside me, Lord will, his blood spill Like a waterfall, fuck around, make me slaughter y'all [Chorus: Pusha T] Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha? Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha? Hmm, gon' get your Air Force plane, ain't cha? Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha? [Verse 3: Malice] Oh, you just gon' take without askin', ain't cha? You just grabbin', you ain't earnin' for shit, that's too old-fashioned Look, tulip, I will never tuck a jewel up Kindergarten, did they not tap your knuckle with the ruler? I'm the era of the Juice Crew, don't let that dookie noose you One and one is two, it's just as simple as Blue's Clues The nine'll get the most of you, turn yourself around For he who want to run up and earn himself a crown Meanwhile, study something, nigga, it's Gucci parka From France where the kids sing Frère Jacques If not there, I'm somewhere mixin' vodkas In a far-off land where they shake maracas and shit Keep it movin' like them keys of coke You're the hunted motherfucker and I'm Benicio Not Tommy Lee, see, we never involve the law If it seems the walls are closing in, it's only 'cause they are Motherfucker [Chorus: Pusha T] Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha? Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha? Hmm, gon' get your Air Force plane, ain't cha? Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha? [Verse 4: Ab-Liva] I'm a natural-born hustler, I, the risk taker I get it 'cross the border, the alpha, the omega My life, I scripted the papers, posh like the wrist in the cradle That hug the diamonds that kiss for you haters Grimaldi, it's so gaudy But it's just so picture perfect as I lean in that six-forty Five C.I., I'm on them blades like T.I. Them niggas hate to measure 'cause they knee-high Still slingin' that P-I-E what I bring by Need .50 cal, pretty Desert up my sleeve, I Still huggin' that corner so tight, it can't breathe, I Never let it go 'cause a nigga gotta eat, I Came, conquered the game The flame and the powder and the pot Stirred it crazy, hustle, I'm elite, I Still in the game, tippin' the scale like Libra You don't really want that halo over your Caesar, no [Chorus: Pusha T] Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha? Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha? Hmm, gon' get your Air Force plane, ain't cha? Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha? Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?