Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Slap! Slap! Slap! , by - Missy Elliott. Release date: 13.05.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Slap! Slap! Slap! |
| Me and my clique |
| Run thur the gutter breakin down shutter |
| As the beat goes, dun dun dun duna |
| Ain’t nothing better than these favorite buttas |
| It’s like freakin wit your lova tryin bust his rubba |
| Have him have him undercover like he thought he never |
| How the hell a bitch like me become so celva |
| Yall wack MC’s, yall never never |
| Talkin hard as a cock but is light as a feather |
| Yall suspect hoe’s yall suspect hoe’s |
| Takin off your clothe yall reject hoe’s |
| Fell the rhythm, I’m bout to kill em Missy (Timbaland) |
| Slap! |
| Slap!Slap! |
| Right across your melon, easy |
| (Nigga, Slap! Slap! |
| Right across your melon, easy) |
| Yall lil' |
| Tryin act bigga don’t yall get the picture |
| Every freakin year I come wit something sicka |
| Fan’s takin flick’s wanna get my picture |
| Freak’s only speak? |
| Do you know Jigga? |
| Strange muthafucka’s wanna be my nigga |
| Turn your man to a ass-licker |
| Cheatin ass men means, cheatin as men |
| Time to stop gamin and stay the fuck in Fell the rhythm, I’m bout to kill em Missy (Timbaland) |
| Slap! |
| Slap!Slap! |
| Right across your melon, pronto |
| (I said, Slap! Slap!Slap! |
| Right across your melon, pronto) |
| You don’t wanna get smacked right quick |
| Wit a upper cut like this |
| I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like this |
| Still get paid to bust the right shit |
| Still get paid to hope on the dick |
| I’m a prostitute, I gotta a lot of loot |
| But if you knock the boots, but at lease cop the coup |
| What I’m post to do, starve for you |
| This ain’t ??, I can’t crawl for you |
| That’s impossible |
| I make the rule |
| I pay the dues |
| I wear the pants |
| Bought the shoes, they Prada too |
| Fuck wit me you lose |
| Step to me and get brused |
| Your chances are not few, they none |
| So what I’m bitchy |
| Roll a phat blunt wit Missy |
| In the front wit me Tim hit AHH, wit the bang to the boggada beat |
| Burnin em wit the heat |
| It don’t conser me, when nigga talk shit |
| They just wanna learn me When they see me, I permentaly |
| Damage they shit internally |
| And Slap! |
| Slap! |
| Slap! |
| em right across the melon |
| Nigga, Slap! |
| Slap!Slap! |
| Right across your melon, easy |
| I’m the M-S-J-A-D-E |
| Toes and lows, bling like I’m B.G. |
| I don’t know nigga help, shit, I write my own |
| Just gimme a beat and a muthafuckin microphone |
| Picture this shit me Missy and Timbaland |
| We bout to take it to the streets, but they chicken ran |
| Oh Shit, It’s gettin kinda hot in here |
| Oh Shit, Make niggas stop and stare |
| Talk dirty, rock-a-bye a birdy |
| Smack the shit out the Clyde |
| Cause Bonnie should have pay me Get old heads for they checks that sign right |
| And I get lil’boys for they doe on prom night |
| Cause I do my thing, knots in a pocket |
| Slap! |
| Slap!Slap! |
| All up in your knogen, early |
| I said, Slap! |
| Slap!Slap! |
| All up in your knogen |
| Nigga, Slap! |
| Slap!Slap! |
| Right across your melon, easy |