Lyrics Language: English Song writer/composer(s): Terry Lewis, Jean Claude Olivier, Samuel J Barnes, Nasir Jones, Inga D Marchand, James Samuel Iii Harris
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The FirmHardcore Lyrics:
What? That Firm shit, that Firm shit
What? That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Everyday I'ma polli 'bout, who's the best hotty out?
And will they ever let Gotti out?
Am I real? Feel free to try me out
Guaranteed eternally, you signin' out
I only bang quarters, not a thing short of
Than a dime, rhyme like a crime scene reporter
Thought shorty would lose but the game taught her
Hoodrat just like Thelma, James's daughter
Killer put you on, got you laced in Bucon
Bledest stone, where the place you call home?
Brooklyn girl, plotted then I took the world
You know the whole drill, Na Na so ill
Make mills and escro, decimals
Cancoon, Mexico, X-and-O
Bracelets got all, along with gold
Now it's platinum rings, songs is sold
Hot from the jumpstart, let the gun spark
Thriller, will I shot to the top of the charts
Head honcho, cat Esco
Push everythin' from the Coupe to the Fo'
Never love a ho, get my dick sucked
Smoke the chocolate, trick my chicks up
Pass all the ki's to mami, whip it up
Fox get the B's, Bonnie live it up
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Firm, nigga what? Get my twat licked
Never love a trick, get him for his chips
Fuck him and his dick, nigga where the six?
He actin' like a bitch, he should've known this
Got the stone the wrist, I ain't no bonin' this
Bomb ass shit, I could play with my shit
Rap niggas, capitalize, stock figures
Cognac is that liquor got me all numbed out
Now I'm in the street with the guns out
Niggas better take me home, 'fore I dumbs out
Might fuck around, lay somethin' down
Wit mad niggas out here to see that shit
We that click, runnin' shit up in New Yick
All the way down to Hicktown, layin' it down
Fox be the classiest, the sassiest
The clubs, all thugs grab my wrists, offer me moselle Crist
More of the shit to hold you with, keep hatin' I'ma fold your bitch
Should've known to control that chick, hoes mad, 'cos I roll the six
Doe full of ices, black Isis
Sidewalk, my niggas stay fuckin' your girl
The rest be, hoes in stretch jeans with red seams
Take it from me, let a nigga dream
Make 'em lick that, get the cat for his cream
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
It's about time I reverse that
Bitches learn game, rehearse that
It ain't no love, ma remember that
Ya hoes wanna slap while I got him on his back
Tryin', to hurt that
Think you're grown, half the niggas sittin' at home
Watchin' the kids, while you're gettin' it on
I'm too smart for that, caught you creepin'
Receipts in your Prada bag, sweets every weekend
Spendin' my doe, I coulda spent that on hydro
You ain't slick enough, think I don't know
Dumb ass, think I slept on your bum ass
Knew the whole stee 'bout a chip like me
Did it on G-P, let you eat me
Couldn't freak me, I'm better off with TV
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Can't get enough
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Your love, so good
You deserve some hardcore
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Can't get enough
That Firm shit, that Firm shit
Can't get enough
The lyrics on the most recent version are sanctioned by the composer, or owner of the rights to the lyrics, however, there may be lyrics that are more complete on the prior version(s) that have been submitted by a contributor to mp3lyrics.org
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