Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fa Ha, artist - LL COOL J. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Fa Ha |
| «Don't you knowwwwww, don’t you knowwwww.» |
| See this is worldwide baby |
| «That it’s wrong.» |
| Germany, Italy. |
| France, Japan |
| «To take what is given.» |
| Many foreign lands. |
| Talkin bout Queens |
| I’m talkin bout, Brooklyn |
| I’m talkin bout, Uptown |
| I’m talkin bout, downtown |
| Oh y’all with this too Jerz! |
| The girl like, Strong Isle (oh they wild) |
| The girl like, Neticut |
| Yo they get them, they need to get more shoutouts up there, word up |
| «To take what is given.» |
| Breaker breaker one-nine, I had a rendezvous |
| Pop vintage wine with this dime, hot as a barbecue |
| She was young, too wild without a curfew |
| Smile I hurt you, had me goin berzerk too |
| I’m guaranteein she’ll be leanin in the coupe |
| Fiendin for your loot, little demon schemin for Tiffany hoops |
| Yeah, her right there, Dominicans is doin her hair |
| The jewels and gear, it’s all there, fully equipped |
| Body sick, she never played fair, yeah |
| Far from classy, walk real nasty |
| Talk real sassy, why you frontin? |
| Come smash me |
| I can’t do it baby-girl, your man might blast me for |
| I can’t die for American Pie |
| Hypnotized cause somebody combined thighs and lies, but it’s |
| No surprise, your pipe will rise |
| Don’t bounce with her, puff a ounce with her, not wise, not with |
| Papi chill, get sloppy, get killed by |
| Blood streams the guillotine f’real, yeah |
| Pop bottles with hot models and rock throttles |
| I guess your motto is I’m a desperado |
| Leave alone, end up like Castellano |
| Believe me, she flap her gums like Sammy Gravano |
| It’s easy, child barely an Italiano |
| But don’t do it, she’ll have your eight by ten on every channel |
| No honey can set your body on fire like |
| Make you wanna get higher and higher with |
| Put your muder game down so you can buy it for |
| Street dreams, you gon' hustle and retire with |
| Walk in the crib, filled with desire for |
| SL, the rims and the tires for |
| Third strike, and all of your priors for |
| Gave up your whole empire for |
| She do it so fluid it’s hard to see through it, 'til it’s too late |
| You wanna time travel and re-do it, but wait |
| You a inmate, or worse at the pearly gates |
| Damn, all because you and had an early date |
| Close your eyes, recognize, visualize |
| What’s the real reason you really freezin them pies, huh? |
| Tan lines, strawberry oil on the thighs |
| Got you subconciously contemplatin suicide |
| Shoulda learned, remember how your man died? |
| Grabbed his iron, it was time to ride for |
| Multiple homicides, takin lives for |
| He’s dead and gone, the next man’s deep inside |
| Check one-two, I select a few |
| Jewels for those of you, who are still confused |
| She’s an obstacle, hot and tropical |
| Fatty so rockable, that anything’s possible with |
| Cheese fantasies, dodgin the D’s to please |
| Livin life on a flyin trapeze to keep |
| Who’s the one you want? |
| Who you wanna flaunt? |
| She haunted, but who’s the only bird you ever want? |
| Why you sell drugs? |
| Why you a thug? |
| Why do fools always seem to fall in love with |
| More advances than technology |
| Every day I stack chips, whether music or flicks |
| All these transparent cliques full of devilish politics |
| Wish they could take my longevity and bottle it for |
| But they can’t so they kill for Grants |
| Smuggle iron in the party, pop for hot sex with |
| Love’s an illusion, mental and emotional confusion |
| Instant gratifacation oozin |
| Exotic temptress, eyes just like a empress |
| Spilt game relentless, I had to represent Miss |
| — repeat 2X (skips at start of second repeat) |
| Yeah, oh yeah |
| It’s my 10th album, ha ha |
| Heh, and you don’t stop |
| I said this my 10th album, uh-huh, oh yeah yea yea, yeah |
| And you won’t stop, knahmean? |
| 10 baby |
| Easy |
| «To take what is given.» |
| We right baby, huh |