Lil' Kim — Its Kim Bitches Get That Money

[Intro] Ya'll know who it is NEW MONEY! It's me, bitches [Verse 1] Back up on the scene, it's 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 dawg) I'm keepin' it Holly-hood, out in Hollywood Put ya lighters up if you rollin' that backwood (put 'em up, put 'em up!) Once again it's on, your girl's back in the zone Maybe it's the beat or the seven shots of Patron 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 Ya'll 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 What you cowards forgot, is stayin' on top I'm kinda like your album, it ain't never gon' drop Y'all got gun, and they 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 5-50s, that cream white Red diamonds like a infrared beam light My soldiers masked up like it's Halloween night You know the apple-bottoms got the jeans fittin' tight Marciano bra got the titties sittin' right 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, yeah Kim still gutta mane American Idol, before Ruben Studdard mane My sex appeal make you stu-stu-stutter mane My CD all in ya crib like brudda mane I'm seasoned with all the right spices I'm the whole pie, y'all just slices I'm hotter than Tabasco sauce When God make it rain. it's to cool me off [Hook] 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 [Verse 2] 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 Gallardo I'm lookin' for the due leavin' in the helicopter So we can toast, overlooking the coast Just think about that, next time you flyin' coach Yeah I came home, little meat on the thighs I'm eye candy, real sweet on the eyes Yeah I fucked with Nas, hypnotized B.I Damn, they even thought I married Jay, like Blige But nah, nah, Kim keep two steppin' 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 holla at Ya stocks went down, you can't get a dolla back