Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song No One's , by - Foxy Brown. Release date: 31.12.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
No One's |
| 'Member Mossy, 'member the sweet dreams |
| 'Member the cocoa leaves, 'member Sega Gene-sis |
| Now we live in love like Genovese, stash twenty G’s ease |
| Crib in Belize please, forever cheese |
| Crib all fresh high-tech nigga, art deco |
| In the villa room, sippin Demi Sec, ohh? |
| Seperate the classiest from the nastiest |
| Bugs, on some ninety-six ill shit |
| Niggas used to rock Swatches and style 'member? |
| Now they 'bezle on the Rolexes chips like December |
| In Havana, the Cabana, Copa |
| Now Fox is flippin more chips than Oprah |
| Lizard skin sofa, ice flooded Don |
| Like Imelda Marcos, the Donness, I be the peron |
| Pure precon foot action Tone |
| Like the Brax-ton, Fox nigga get your smash on |
| No one’s gonna love you, the way I do |
| Nobody, I can love you better |
| No one’s gonna love you, the way I do |
| Nobody, baby your best bet is me |
| It was the floss thang, for them niggas to thug walk thang |
| And for the chips, Reebokses and New York thang |
| Small thang, and to the hottest, Goddess |
| Caramel skin-tel, try this, and die the hardest |
| Heartless, it was cool to shoot skully |
| He’s remind me, something like R. Kelly |
| Back in the days, maxes and cresses |
| Now it’s 6's with chrome rellies, and BBSes |
| Undress this, no deal, no skills off this |
| And from where I was holdin, before this |
| Bad chick before all this, peep the wrist action |
| Fendi sell ices around the bezelle |
| No sale, suited up in Bendel, Boogie |
| Oh well, could tell, I floss well, uhh |
| Peep the hustle, steamed shrimps and mussels |
| Lampin, in the Hamptons, quarter mile from Russell’s |
| If we was all Don like DeMarco, runnin crazy |
| Niggas, won’t be haters, ballin, like briqueze |
| Presedential suites at Ramada, in Nevada |
| Cheese like Ricotta nigga, bet I’m droppin |
| Twenty G’s on roulette, playa, what you bet? |
| The Cris have a nigga trippin wet, uhhhh |
| Seven figs on a bet, 84 be 48 |
| Five on the plate, high stake, indo |
| Bet they went from Pujos to pushin Benz-o's |
| Dippin on a van whip with the dipped Lorenzo’s |
| The sassiest, mahogany Brown |
| Switch from, rockin lottoes to coppin movados |
| Peep the mix like mulatto, feel on |
| Tryin to chill on the ville sit back and get these mill-ions |
| Yeah, now you ballin, please |
| Your stash wasn’t swollen till my dough started rollin |