Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo   Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo      I'm the most critically acclaimed, rap bitch in the game   Coast to coast, stash the get in holster girl   Dark skinned, Christian Dior poster girl   Mo' rockin' Timbs bitch and the Gucci loafer girl   Niggaz say I'm too pretty to spit rhymes this gritty   Fuck y'all thought? Be dancin' around in suits like I'm   Pretty, show niggaz how we run this city   Respect my name, Boogie nigga, stay in you lane      Like The Hurricane, rains on bitches like Sugar Shane   And dare one of y'all rappin' bitches to mention Fox name   "What's Beef?", Beef is when bitches think it's sweet   See y'all frontin' in the streets and let my gat meet you      Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo   Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo      Check, it's like I'm in my own fuckin' world, I speak how I feel   Sometimes I feel like I'm just too fuckin' real   I love to stack riches, no disrespect y'all   I respect the rap game, but I don't fuck with rap bitches   I'm speakin' from my heart, it's not that I'm too good   I'm just hood, been like this from the fuckin' start   Since I bust my gun in ninety-six   Y'all never see me flick up with them fake-ass chicks      Bitches smile up in your face, turn around and pop shit   You a industry bitch, I'm a in the streets bitch   I might breeze through Prada, Chloe or Tiffs   But, other than that it's just me and my six      Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo   Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo      I dream filthy, my moms and pops mixed it   With the Trini' rum and whiskey, proper set off   Six sped off, gats let off, I speak calm   Gangsta, and pours off like Screechie Don, bwoy   Who y'all know rock Prada like Fox   Pop bottles in the back of the cellar with Donatella   Cartier wrist wear, Pasha Kay face   Got niggaz stand in line just to get a sneak taste      Act like y'all don't know I keeps gat beneath waist   And like a hundred thou' each crib in each safe   When Fox come through she have a gun in the place   I'm like Marion Jones, what, who the fuck wan' race?   Listen, never trippin', never catch Brown slippin'   Fuck, y'all only nice around mics like Pippen   Shit, to all my thugs that's Blood'n or Crip'n   I'm still shittin', still lowridin' and switch-hittin' nigga      Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo   Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo      Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo   Why yo, why yo yo yo   Why yo, why yagga ya yo