Ras Kass Lyrics

Album: Rasassination

Get at Me Lyrics

Damn nigga what's wrong wit you 

[Ras Kass] 

(I reign) I reign more cop than Johnny 

Sippin' tanquery with o.j. 

Sportin' bruno mali 

Not guilty but filthy 

Smellin' like Chritstian Dior 

Infiniti QX4 gimme yours 

Of course sinnin 

Swimmin' in the abdomen of pretty women 

Love to love ya like Timbaland 

When in the endin 

Like three strikes in the ninth inning 

I rock satin boxers cotton socks and denim 

The game he kick, special teams couldn't return 

Got you wild like a texturizer 

Burn like the ultra-perm, toss it up like a geyser 

Sosa, kosher, nostra, like keyser 

And got a thing for rehabilitating hood-rats 

Who keep their hair and nails done 

And they legs waxed 

I peep that, you got a man, but you want a homie 

Love a friend, my sentiments exactly 

Get at me 

chorus [Karida Johnson] 

I like your style, can we kick it, oh wow 

Baby, so you can get at me 

[Ras Kass] I got no game, It's just the women Understand my story 

I got a man, but we can still be friends 

So you can get at me, baby, baby-bay, baby 

Verse Two 

Some things make you happy just to be alive 

Like seeing Toni Braxton naked on the cover of the vibe 

Drive, like hitting two-twenty-five 

In the pin with no spot 

I survive drama and then know when to lick shots 

Keep a top notch just a phone call away from my crotch 

Never brought sand to the beach 

Cause these streets is baywatch (true) 

You know how we do 

Satin lingerie I see through 

Now she barely even kiss you 

Leaving 1-7-7-1-5-4-0-0 on my pager (I miss you boo) 

Your chicken-head wife was poultry 

Undersexed and sultry 

That's the rhyme and reason why we committed adultery 

I swear, womens love from bel-air to welfare 

Chalkin' up these frequent flyer miles on Con-Air 

Her momma shoulda named her Casino 

She got the liquor in the front 

Poke her in the rear 

chorus 

Verse Three 

You know my steez though 

Dark skin and creole, I'm 'bout it 

Just without the Master P dough 

But see though, my tax bracket decent and increasin 

Make no mistake 

You cant get a slice if you don't bake the cake 

To reverse trick 

My silly ex-bitch transport brick 

For twenty percent - commission 

She dressed up with no where to go 

While I'm blowin up your dress like Marilyn Monroe 

For show, at my girl party, flowin 

But I think she caught me like a nazi 

Now I'm servin', she got me under surveilence 

Like John Gotti, now I'm signin' on the low 

Actin' straight Illuminati 

Don't get mad, I'm only being honest 

It's Clarence Thomas (fuck you Ras) 

You promise 

Then freak me, slightly below the hips 

And blow me a kiss with your pussy lips 

Get at me 

chorus 

Get at me