Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No, artist - Nelly. Date of issue: 31.12.2000
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
No |
| Yo, All the fans we love yall |
| We gon make one fo the haters like fuck that |
| (Ali) |
| Old School 9−8 and you see the Camilion |
| Below in the celing wood with wheel on |
| With a flyin bitch some old gangsta shit |
| Flat screen dvds smoking stank and shit |
| Ain’t dat shit Sunday bull tank and shit |
| Top down air forces white tank and shit |
| Ain’t nothing soft on boy stop thankin it |
| I got a trophy at the playa ball banquet |
| This bank I get |
| Style we all that to the back we all that to the back |
| Red or blue new wall cap |
| Pause that bull shit you talking bout |
| Before the people start walkin out |
| If you please we succeed regardless |
| Shine the hardest and I’ll sign an artist |
| Longevity like the BeeGee’s |
| Please be awarre we don’t carre |
| Do you like us? |
| No, no, I know y’all ain’t say no uh oh |
| Be back in a minute wit dat chrome 4−4 |
| And when I get back everybody gone hit the flo flo |
| Cause I just asked him was the Tics tight and I think he just said |
| No, no, I know y’all ain’t say no uh oh |
| Be back in a minute wit dat chrome 4−4 |
| And when I get back everybody gone hit the flo flo |
| Cause I just asked him was the Tics tight and I think he just said no |
| (Murphy Lee) |
| 1993 creation for steps of born leezys |
| Wrote rhymes in class, bored by teachers |
| Church only on easter, ignore the preacher |
| Do the grown up at school right unda the bleachers |
| A wild little bity doin lunatic rules |
| To this day they be like «Lunatic Rules» |
| I’m hangin wit the dudes that done it, don’t even stunt it |
| You cats stay in the back doin too much frontin |
| See you hatas like to take risk sonofabitch |
| I really disc jockeys at home jockin my disc |
| I’m gon pretend yall ain’t heard that shit |
| School boy 5'9 receive the hairlines and halfway rich |
| I’m gon run niggas out of town |
| Naw fuck yall hatas I’m gon chill til they run out of crown |
| Royal, Blue Jack right at the door |
| Ay yo I’m Murphy Lee can I park my car here? |
| (Kyjuan) |
| Swervin excursion limited fo 12's |
| Fo amps don’t know what my limit is |
| Ive been packin 22's like Emmitt did |
| I’ve been po before +No+ what a +Limit+ is |
| New engine new paint ain’t them d’s spinnin |
| Love rims, love Lakers, who I love winnin, love women |
| Spinnin grindin since the beggin no mo limits |
| Drom tops cuttys on 4's |
| No love fo hoes |
| Change them like clothes |
| Hit em like switches then I pass them on |
| We all know dats how the game should go |
| We all know most of us love the same hoes |
| Like Carla the preachers daughter fucked wit the barber |
| Over there on the utha side of College Encarta |
| For starters I know both yall smash |
| I didn’t get no ass so I had to ask |
| She said… |
| (Nelly) |
| I’m feelin frost bit oh shit is he in town? |
| Check the paper weather say temperature goin down |
| Yep that’s him he come to make his rounds |
| Tell him how it feel ten mill skin found |
| Beta not continue I can show you how |
| Frank Mill aww he done flood it wit rounds |
| Don’t know what to call me I can think of some nouns |
| Mr. Hoe Hopper, Trick Knocker, Free City |
| My g’s getting depp like P. Diddy |
| I’m feelin like B round looking for my Whitney |
| Heel I’d take a Cidney if the stash is right |
| Cocked fo legged and her pants is tight |
| It ain’t got to be fo eva it can be fo tonight |
| First class flight to Nellyville |
| So how it feel doin sit ups on the virgin rug |
| Drinkin criss out a mug, Part boughee, Part Thug, call me Bug Ok? |
| Uh Oh |
| North side one time let me herre ya… Uh Oh |
| South side one time let me herre ya… Uh Oh |
| East side on time let me herre ya… Uh Oh |
| West side on time let me herre ya… Uh Oh |
| That’s why man yo breath smell like shit |
| If yo momma breath smelled like that nigga |
| She libel to kill some motherfucker |
| Man if yo momma’s eyebrows look the way yo’s do |
| It look like a caterpillar layin on her fo’head |
| Nigga yo momma snort anthrax and she still mobbin |