Ain’t Cha Songtext
von Clipse feat. Re-Up Gang

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?
Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain′t cha?
Hmm, gon′ get your Air Force plane, ain't cha?
Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain′t cha?

Through despair, I traipse, bakin' pies, makin′ cake
Hustling them E's and that C and that H
While you probably talking frantic on the tape
Niggas in the hood ain′t tryna hear, "Man, it was a mistake"
They'll call you a bitch, not a bandit at your wake
Epitaph reading how much damage you could take
While I'm on the boat with your bitch, salmon on her plate
I know why you liked her, the head, it was great


Lovin′ these bezel-set chains with no space
86 karats, you know how much diggin′ in the planet this could take?
Patent leather Bapes (uh, uh)
Closet like Planet of the Bapes
Monkey see, monkey do, monkeys following in place
Like I'm living in an episode of Planet of the Apes
You′re watching the evolution of one of rap's greats
You niggas tryna take my place? Never happen

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?
Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain′t cha?
Hmm, gon′ get your Air Force plane, ain't cha?
Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain′t cha?

Dig it, every time I do it, encore
Slide out the Lincoln with the suicide doors
My, am I blingin' like Baby with all that shit on
My block pop ′til all that shit gone
What? You pussies hardly eatin'
What you spend on a home is a gaudy piece
On the chest of a biz-oss, it′s a must I fliz-oss
My dream team wrestle for cheese like Eric Bischoff


From the kickoff to tipoff
I give off rays from the VVs, ice glazed like lip gloss
Thinkin' they can see me, I beg to differ
Look up in the skiz-y, it's the Big Dipper (that′s cold)
It′s chilly in Philly, it's that real
Nobody know karate, more bodies than Kill Bill
Somebody get beside me, Lord will, his blood spill
Like a waterfall, fuck around, make me slaughter y′all

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?
Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha?
Hmm, gon′ get your Air Force plane, ain′t cha?
Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain't cha?

Oh, you just gon′ take without askin', ain′t cha?
You just grabbin', you ain′t earnin' for shit, that's too old-fashioned
Look, tulip, I will never tuck a jewel up
Kindergarten, did they not tap your knuckle with the ruler?
I′m the era of the Juice Crew, don′t let that dookie noose you
One and one is two, it's just as simple as Blue′s Clues
The nine'll get the most of you, turn yourself around
For he who want to run up and earn himself a crown

Meanwhile, study something, nigga, it′s Gucci parka
From France where the kids sing Frère Jacques
If not there, I'm somewhere mixin′ vodkas
In a far-off land where they shake maracas and shit
Keep it movin' like them keys of coke
You're the hunted motherfucker and I′m Benicio
Not Tommy Lee, see, we never involve the law
If it seems the walls are closing in, it′s only 'cause they are
Motherfucker

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain′t cha?
Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain't cha?
Hmm, gon' get your Air Force plane, ain′t cha?
Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain′t cha?

I'm a natural-born hustler, I, the risk taker
I get it ′cross the border, the alpha, the omega
My life, I scripted the papers, posh like the wrist in the cradle
That hug the diamonds that kiss for you haters
Grimaldi, it's so gaudy
But it′s just so picture perfect as I lean in that 60-40
Five C.I., I'm on them blades like T.I.
Them niggas hate to measure ′cause they knee-high

Still slingin' that P-I-E what I bring by
Need .50 cal, pretty Desert up my sleeve, I
Still huggin' that corner so tight, it can′t breathe, I
Never let it go ′cause a nigga gotta eat, I
Came, conquered the game
The flame and the powder and the pot
Stirred it crazy, hustle, I'm elite, I
Still in the game, tippin′ the scale like Libra
You don't really want that halo over your Caesar, no

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna get a big chain, ain't cha?
Hmm, with the medallions and the rings, ain′t cha?
Hmm, gon′ get your Air Force plane, ain't cha?
Say what? So you can get that hood fame, ain′t cha?

Hmm, you tryna get some hood fame, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna slang in the rain, ain′t cha?
Hmm, you tryna save for the Range, ain't cha?
Hmm, you tryna perfect your aim, ain′t cha?