Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Big Shots, artist - Eyedea & Abilities. Album song First Born, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.01.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Rhymesayers Entertainment
Song language: English
Big Shots |
You know the type of girl that walks in front of you and makes your jaw drop? |
She talks in riddles, and sort of tickles your soft spot |
You see her in the club. |
She treats you like a scrub |
She ain’t trippin’off you, she got your whole crew in love |
Your day dreamin’of getting her in the bedroom alone |
Straight feedin', You’s beg like a dog for the bone |
And she’s peepin', and the reason is she knows |
Theres a demon in between your legs with a mind of its own |
Now, you’re a weakling, overwhelmed with hormones |
Y’all start speakin', she grabs the number to your phone |
And next weekend you invite her to your home |
You weren’t even thinking. |
You got played by a pro |
She’s a big shot. |
Thick lips, nice legs, green eyes |
Took advantage of a thousand. |
Only slept with three guys |
Ain’t a hoe or a groupie. |
Jane Doe or a Lucy |
Her innocent looks are deceving, so I’m telling you to be wise |
I know she’s a cutie, but there’s power in that coochie |
Underneath those booty tight, cutoff, daisy-dooksy Levi’s |
She’s a big shot. |
You know your dream girl |
She knows how to use her looks to take advantage of the world |
She’s a big shot. |
You thought you could school her |
She dissed you like you were neutered, and told you to go get a sexual tutor |
She’s a big shot. |
She wouldn’t touch your ruler |
She’s so beutiful. |
A cute but cruel looter, user and abuser |
She’s a big shot. |
Your eyes are glued to her behind |
You know her steeze, but you fall for it every time |
Now, what about that popular school kid? |
The always have been, always will be cool kid? |
The class president valedictorian. |
«A plus», star quaterback |
Cadillac convertible drivin', signin’cheerleaders autorgraphs |
The letter on the jacket. |
Medal around the neck |
Pin on his chest, and mind on his rep |
He only dates models. |
Drinks his Summit from the bottle |
When he walks he waddles, and he ain’t never lost a squabble |
He put you in the locker, and took your girlfriend to prom |
He’s in your life everyday, and you can’t wait 'til he’s gone |
But daddy owns a business, so it won’t be long |
Before he inherits it, makes carats, and sings a rich man’s song |
He’s got the most expensive clothes and jewerly to wear |
While your looking for a job, he’s looking in the mirror |
He walks the halls surrounded by is fan club |
Starts fads, ends trends, and hits the ceiling when he stands up He’s a preppy, fame hoggin', pig headed fool |
When he has a party, everyone’s invited except you |
And your crew. |
And there really ain’t nothin’y’all can do He’s in every state, city, and town, as long as they got a school |
He’s a big shot. |
Thick knot in his wallet |
Parents got enough money to send your whole family to college |
He’s a big shot. |
Testosterone thirsty |
Hallway fahter figure with his masculianity stained on his jersey |
He’s a big shot. |
I.B. |
class whiz-kid |
Braggin’about a big dick, that chick and this chick |
He’s a big shot. |
My favorites are rappers, the egoistical bastards |
The people that never clap for your set, they think you’re whacker |
Than them 'cause they’re the masters |
I bet disaster is caused in their mind when you rhyme |
and plaster their jaws shut with a fat verse |
To him you’re a hazard. |
Weak matter. |
A reason for laughter |
He’s preachin’he’s live. |
But he’s only that word backwards |
After he dies, you can climb the ladder, start a chapter |
Art you’ll capture finally. |
But while he breathes, m.c.'s don;t even flatter him |
Add a tad if his acrobatical arrogance |
To his genteically engineered emotional pattern of tearin’kids in battles |
That’ll explain why he mean mugs. |
He told ya’your team sucks |
Said you dream of choking him with that mic cord |
Instead, he blows your mind straight out your head |
He says, «Fuck You!"with clarity. You cry hysterically |
As it makes a parody of your passion |
You tell friends you think he’s tight |
but secretly, you hope his career won’t be lasting |
'Cause he’s an asshole. |
But you know he’s got nice sound |
You know what else? |
Your looking at him right now |
I’m a big shot. |
Don’t front, you know you love me Girls never wash their hands after they get a chance to touch me |
I’m a big shot. |
Hey, you can say I’m a creep |
But put me in a room with your idols and I’ll make 'em look weak |
I’m a big shot. |
Shit, can nobody fade me The only way we can do a song is if somebody pays me |
I’m a big shot. |
Big Shot. |
Big Props |
The best thing to ever happen in the history of hip hop |