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"Ms. Jackson" lyrics by CHAMILLIONAIRE
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"Ms. Jackson"

What's da supa king K Double O-P-A Say
If I say hey, can I get yo number she say, OK
U ask for her number and she be like, No Way!
Got da boots sayin What it Do instead of gouday
Everybody that think that the Chamillion can't rap
I couldn't make a wack rap if my name was J-Mack
I'm just jokin mack I take that back
But I just gave u a shoud out nigga, u can't hate that!
Big twinkey inch leenas, clarion car screenas
Got hoes sayin "Woop, Pull over" like Trina
I'm not a drank leena cause I rather zip zema
Yellow braud named Tina take my clothes to da cleaners
I'm above u, u under me like an umbrella
Don't even try to front like yo game is much betta
If she yellow like the letters in my iceberg sweeta
Then u betta not let her leave home cause I'll gett'a
I'm thugged out foreva, weak... I think not!
I'm as throwed as a rock in a shot slingshot
Knock, knock! who is it?
None of yo damn business
It's da color changin' lizard so shut up until he's finish
Nigga, I roll chrome and I'll pull up in yo home
Ice lookin like I stuck my finger in a snowcone
When it comes to this rap, u can't do me no harm
I would still be calm with a bomb in my palm
And a big stick of dynamite strapped to my arm
Three W's dot, get of my dick dot com
I don't wear versace cause I ain't tryin to be cute
I gave my lawyer da boot cause he try to put me in a suit
Eat meat with big tig and I'm throwed al pauldin
Twenty inch rollers, sean john on my clothin
And youavage downtown every semester
I might pop up in a drop with blindside and lester
Nigga, nig nag paddy wack
Hold up man, matter fact
I almost forgot to give a shout out to da alley cats
My nigga, A D, A Lee, and Slim T
Bun B, and Ron C and Big T-I-M-P
Gotta post them nigga, out for them boys up on da south
No need to spell it out cause ya'll now what I'm talkin bout

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