Sleepin' on Jersey Songtext
von Naughty by Nature
Sleepin' on Jersey Songtext
Naughty
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
I′m takin' tricky routes in a Dickies suit, tougher than a trucker
Harder as a bucko plus a ashy knuckle motherfucker
19 Naughty 1 through Naughty 9, I′m housin'
Plus the year Treach Thousand
Back trigger hap, did you figure that?
With a bigger bat, with a rap tough as a nigga nap
Tell him to drop through, hookers gettin' dropped too
What do I think about you? Pac too
And put it on a box and stamp it
So I can FedEx your ass to Kansas
I put a few blows in cargo
So you could tongue twist your ass back to Chicago
I′m servin′ force, fightin' mighty hard
I did too much to get real hip hop back to give it back y′all
Took it to your face, took it to your chest
Go and kiss your cutie with my nuts on her breath, yup!
Listen up, the money is the lawn
You're not just the man with damn money money
Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control
So here we go-oh
A lot of ho′s heard of me, won't murder me
I had surgery, quick I had a doctor stitch a condom to my shit
And it won′t slay no bug spray, break, or bust
If 5-O trouble, like a bubble, than I just double up
Stare me up and down, try your luck around
You could put your dick through a hula-hoop trope and couldn't fuck around
Come try me on a slow day like no day
A ho day like yo' day, ho hay take us nowhere
I love you too, give me some loot
Vin pushes an Ac, Kay pushes a van
And Treach still pushes boots
Just when you thought you wasn′t bought
I smack your ass with your court
Then dump you in north Newark
You′s a motherfuckin' good sport
Your own pain you bought, you did before you thought
No one can act like they ain′t heard of me, have mercy
Now motherfuckers might stop sleepin' on Jersey
Listen up the money is the lawn
You′re not just the man with damn money money
Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control
So here we go-oh
We own the money funky style
20 drunken style gettin' fuckin′ wild
Some monkeys diss, talk shit, speak, and smile
Sometimes I diss, sometimes I break
Talk behind my motherfuckin' back, I'm takin′ off your fuckin′ face
Roughneck, god you rudeboy
You got jacked for ya ass get stuffed like a Cactus
Now act like an actress
Someone throws a show so they play musical mattress
Never turn Charlie Good, turn burn Hollywood, burn
Who the hell is concerned what the blacks earn?
Not a motherfuckin' soul unless you sell your soul
Or your record sales blow
I ain′t your everyday Tom or Tommy
I ain't your boy, don′t play me pac, don't play me boy
The bad does dirt, the good gets hurt
You could get murked, the hood comes first
Waxin′ that ass, fuck a car wash
Turnin' your ass like a doorknob
No one can act like they ain't heard of me
Now motherfuckers might stop sleepin′ on Jersey
Listen up the money is the lawn
You′re not just the man with damm money money
Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control
So here we go-oh
Yeah
Naughty (word up)
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
Naughty (yeah!) Word up
I′m takin' tricky routes in a Dickies suit, tougher than a trucker
Harder as a bucko plus a ashy knuckle motherfucker
19 Naughty 1 through Naughty 9, I′m housin'
Plus the year Treach Thousand
Back trigger hap, did you figure that?
With a bigger bat, with a rap tough as a nigga nap
Tell him to drop through, hookers gettin' dropped too
What do I think about you? Pac too
And put it on a box and stamp it
So I can FedEx your ass to Kansas
I put a few blows in cargo
So you could tongue twist your ass back to Chicago
I′m servin′ force, fightin' mighty hard
I did too much to get real hip hop back to give it back y′all
Took it to your face, took it to your chest
Go and kiss your cutie with my nuts on her breath, yup!
Listen up, the money is the lawn
You're not just the man with damn money money
Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control
So here we go-oh
A lot of ho′s heard of me, won't murder me
I had surgery, quick I had a doctor stitch a condom to my shit
And it won′t slay no bug spray, break, or bust
If 5-O trouble, like a bubble, than I just double up
Stare me up and down, try your luck around
You could put your dick through a hula-hoop trope and couldn't fuck around
Come try me on a slow day like no day
A ho day like yo' day, ho hay take us nowhere
I love you too, give me some loot
Vin pushes an Ac, Kay pushes a van
And Treach still pushes boots
Just when you thought you wasn′t bought
I smack your ass with your court
Then dump you in north Newark
You′s a motherfuckin' good sport
Your own pain you bought, you did before you thought
No one can act like they ain′t heard of me, have mercy
Now motherfuckers might stop sleepin' on Jersey
Listen up the money is the lawn
You′re not just the man with damn money money
Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control
So here we go-oh
We own the money funky style
20 drunken style gettin' fuckin′ wild
Some monkeys diss, talk shit, speak, and smile
Sometimes I diss, sometimes I break
Talk behind my motherfuckin' back, I'm takin′ off your fuckin′ face
Roughneck, god you rudeboy
You got jacked for ya ass get stuffed like a Cactus
Now act like an actress
Someone throws a show so they play musical mattress
Never turn Charlie Good, turn burn Hollywood, burn
Who the hell is concerned what the blacks earn?
Not a motherfuckin' soul unless you sell your soul
Or your record sales blow
I ain′t your everyday Tom or Tommy
I ain't your boy, don′t play me pac, don't play me boy
The bad does dirt, the good gets hurt
You could get murked, the hood comes first
Waxin′ that ass, fuck a car wash
Turnin' your ass like a doorknob
No one can act like they ain't heard of me
Now motherfuckers might stop sleepin′ on Jersey
Listen up the money is the lawn
You′re not just the man with damm money money
Bad boy, rude boy, Atlanta city in control
So here we go-oh
Yeah
Naughty (word up)
Writer(s): Keir Gist, Anthony Shawn Criss, Vincent E. Brown Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
