Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Gossip, artist - Big Boi. Date of issue: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Gossip |
| Niggas wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip |
| Niggas wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip |
| Niggas wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip |
| No introductions needed boy just call me the undefeated (BIG) |
| And underneath this Georgia drawl, I know I can’t be seen with |
| Bifocals because my vocals are classic |
| Like Coca-Cola when they had cocaine in the package |
| I meant to say blow in the ingredients |
| I went to the mall today and all the niggas had on smediums |
| Little bitty ass clothes |
| Like Dancing with the Stars without the judges or the dance flo' |
| Oh and niggas don’t dance no more, all they do is this |
| Beef it up, call me venus fly trap, waiting on fly emcees to eat em up |
| I’m fly as I can be, them weak as fuck |
| And ain’t no keeping up, I’m balls deep and them ain’t deep enough |
| Fat stacks, Cadillac killer, cataract prescription filler |
| I got my medicinal card from Los Angeles, the city of lost angels |
| A connoisseur of cannabis and from Atlanta bitch |
| We never shop with strangers, no matter what strain they slanging |
| Some of the game rules done changed |
| Niggas is out here talking like a cockatoo to a cop or two |
| Now they watching you and your Mama too, bird’s eye view, view |
| Uh I’m getting blowed on the regular |
| Riding and talking dirty on my cellular |
| Playa, I got some young girls that’ll sell you some |
| And if you my homeboy, she gon' give you some |
| And it’s all for the paper but she still gon' cum |
| You dipping in the cookie jar and now you’re sprung, uh |
| I’ll have you tripping like you smoking furl |
| Playa my hoes don’t talk, anybody gon' tell your girl |
| Okay, now niggas wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip |
| Cause they pussy wasn’t hitting and they lip was super sloppy |
| Suck a, duck a mothafucka, rims chop, Lorena Bobbit |
| Want my money corner pocket, plenty game ho |
| Sop it like a biscuit, King of Diamonds, king of tricking, what’s the |
| difference? |
| Got it popping like a skillet with some chicken grease in it |
| Country boy, I’m country raised, from the belly to the grave |
| Word to Pimp nobody tripping 'cause the money already made Krizzle |
| Man, I hate it all the time, I got haters in my biz |
| Talking bout the trill but don’t know what the fuck it is |
| Mothafuckas nowadays are seriously sorry |
| Thinking that the key to life is putting your business on Maury |
| You say you rocking Mauri but that motherfucker Rockport |
| Always talking bout you bust it but your Glock short |
| I know the truth so ain’t no need in your lying |
| Bullshit ain’t working, ain’t no need in your trying |
| Dying to be the nigga that’s spied in the telescope |
| Crime with trilla niggas, put iron to your belly folks |
| Telling them tall tales, fibs, and humdangers |
| Save it for Jeremy Kyle, Steve, or Jerry Spranger |
| Buzzing like a bee, tryna stick me with your stanger |
| You can get the middle, what middle, the finger |
| Stick it in your ass and let it linger |
| No homo and hit the high note like and R&B singer on promo |