Who Writes Your lyrics

Who Writes Your lyrics

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Who Writes Your lyrics

Send "Who Writes Your" Ringtone to your Cell I`m the flyest MC the finest MC the nicest MC oh that`s boring see There`s another MPC so why you think most hip-hop sounds the same except for me? Cryptic kick shit from the crypt sadistic lick hits with wit I`m quick Rip crickets in a wicket I`m plain wicked thick in the rig wearing kid lipstick I wreck shit on the next shit spit it in ya ear bit like a Qtip Big silly bitch wickedy witch lickety split in a sitch no dick but talk big carry a big stick So I`m a girl, yeah I`m white and I write all night with a bare swingin light On the computer alright a producer alright I produced this song- so you know who you are you know you were wrong No I was not in that porn On Golden Blonde got it goin on more James Bond than Sean John Conned James Cahn for a ticket to Cannes and I Love Ferris Bueller like tchhickachickkaa Please don`t ask me who writes my lyrics I`ll spit up in your face much faster than you could hear it Don`t ask me who writes my lyrics Damn ya you`re enamored I`m a slam ya hotter than your can down in Alabama Where`s my camera I need a Kodak moment of the moment I made you feel like Hammer Son of Sam? I`m the daughter of Sam, slaughter a man on the microphone Pardon me ma`am was that part of a man or your son I just whipped on the mic and sent home Big quick shit New York- Stockholm Kike and a Wop Wipin a cock walkin the block drop ya jaw to jock to your sock I get that a lot yeah stop take stock shhh let me show you what I got Made up my mind- like made it up I imagined it-I don`t got a mind I abandoned it in a cabinet So I could be a candidate for writin a few hits walkin a few pits and cashin in on that shit I put out my first tape in `94 if you got one, I`ll buy it I don`t got one no more it was called Mitch Better get my Bunny That shit was shitty but funny I admit it was dumb but I did it with no money In 9-5 my first CD called Strictly Platinum but it didn`t go Platinum it went back to them And instead of waitin for someone to put me on I started a label ran it `til the money was gone, then came along, then was gone, Money money money, don`t try to make it with your songs But like Salt `n Pepa in El Segundo we push it a long (Push it!) And then Fat Beats wouldn`t take my last LP So I got egg beaters threw em back at the backpacks on 6th Ave. passin me At the Bagel Buffet planted a bomb next to Grays And when the records rained I sold `em back for double to Fat Beats in LA It`s all OK cuz when Fat Beats still wouldn`t distribute my record I renamed it-Pharoah Monch featuring Chubby Checker Ha ha mic wrecker don`t sleep, Princess Superstar ? The shit is deep [Thanks to sk8shoe_182@excite.com for these lyrics] Send " Who Writes Your" Ringtone to your Cell Who Writes Your lyrics @ Burbler Lyrics | Who Writes Your lyrics @ ELyrics | Who Writes Your lyrics @ Kovideo | Superstar Princess Lyrics and Video @ MusicBabylon | Who Writes Your lyrics @ Songlyrics | Who Writes Your lyrics @ ELyricsWorld

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