Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Mrs. International, artist - Method Man. Album song Blackout! 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: The Island Def Jam
Song language: English
Mrs. International |
Yeah, nice |
Dedicated to all the beautiful people in the house |
You know who you are |
Yeah, Redman, Method Man, Blackout! |
2 |
Sexy… |
Hair and nails done up, girl, you got your act together |
You get the thumbs up, your raw footage is uncut |
Fronting like them goodies is untouched |
We both knew this money’s is young bucks |
Ma, you ever take a trip to Shang-a-lot |
Too many hard shames, the hardest one is saying goodbye |
Look here, time is money, let me save you some time |
And in your spare time, fully understand I’m a rare find |
You know, so pick a day and pick a place and we there for sure |
Slow up the pace, this ain’t no race, and there you go |
I’m dope money, girl, that mean I got cash to blow |
She love it though, she so international |
Not around the way, around the world |
And you be stunting when you around your girls |
But you classy, though, I’m feeling your vibe, you feeling the high |
The G4 is ready to fly, is you ready to ride? |
Let’s go |
International (Now we can creep, we can lay on the beach, you know |
Then hit the sheets, I’ll let you play with my feet, you know |
She keep it low, she so international) |
International {Hey, I like a girl that’ll roll me a blunt, you know |
With pretty feet, cook me something to eat, you know |
You not a groupie, you’re international} |
Hey, you know me, girl, who I be, girl |
The big whale that bailed outta SeaWorld |
What’s your name, show me I.D., girl |
You look black and a little Chinese, girl |
Hey, wait a minute, where you going, shorty? |
Try to sneak past me like you ain’t balling |
You look sweet like Tweet, baby, c-c-call me |
Matter of fact, wasn’t you on Maury? |
I’m just playing, hey miss thang |
Hey, hey, miss thang, how you gon' miss me? |
I got tickets, let’s roll to the Knicks game |
You Teena Marie, and baby, I’m Rick James |
Excuse me, where you going, mama? |
I wanna change, I voted for Obama |
Bring in the new, kick out the old timers |
Let’s talk while we go and meet your mama |
International (Hey, I like a girl that’s thick in the waist, you know |
The kind of girl, that’ll finish your plate, you know |
You not greedy, you international) |
International {The type of chick I like’ll wheelie your bike, you know |
Rock the mic, roll a Philly uptight, you know |
I like it though, she so international} |
Seems to me, me, you a queen to be |
You mean girl, but you don’t mean to be |
Got your crown and your throne, little castle you can rest your dome |
And we can smoke a little greenery, you know? |
You getting that dough, let’s get it and go on this cruise |
I’m taking it slow, you painting your toes, and it’s cool |
F*ck with your dude, I’m f*cking with you |
Like an overnight celebrity, Miss Nothing to Lose |
Yo, hey, hey, miss lady, my boricua |
I heard your Applebum like Bonita |
Your accent telling me you from the eastside |
Take off your shoes, you bout five feet high |
I get high, what about you? |
A jungle brother, and baby I house you |
Your feet looking real good in them house shoes |
You’re not a groupie, you international |
International… |
International… |