Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Snoopin', artist - Twista.
Date of issue: 26.01.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Snoopin' |
Have mercy. |
mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy. |
Ohhhhh, ohhhhhhh-ohhhh-ohhh. |
Have mercy, mercy, mercy, mercy me Now, now, when my boo let me break 'em off, freaky when we makin love |
I can do shit to you that’ll make you shake in lust |
Comin through how I be stoppin off, kinky when I make you cum |
How could you wanna do shit that’ll make me break the trust? |
Shoulda knew you were sheisty the way you lick me on my body |
and actin shady when I’m out the crib, lightly |
Cause somethin bogus just to fight me spite me all in my area |
plus I’m a Sagittarius, you a Pisces |
For some reason we be clickin like we on business |
but you be on some bullshit |
Askin me where I go, what I do, how I kick it Won’t you get with it baby girl, I don’t cheat on you and pull shizz |
Now who don’t wanna roll on, chrome with then go home with |
Get you to the crib, give you some grown dick |
I let you hold my pounds down, purchasin you phones and fits |
How many times I told you, I ain’t known shit |
But you steady don’t listen even though it’s your friends that listen |
Gotta have trust, but you won’t back up on a couple I’ll catch you wishin |
Claimin that I’m fuckin on another bitch and |
all in my privacy on no premonition, you trippin |
Tell me why do you — doubt a brother, in one ear and out the other |
Cause in my shirt you done found number |
You steady lurkin while I was up in the shower |
dumpin all of my pants pockets, trippin cause you done found a rubber |
And all I gotta say is. |
That’s not right (that's not right) |
Snoopin through my things (you snoopin baby, snoopin baby) |
I don’t do it to you (I don’t do it, I don’t do it) |
You shouldn’t do that to me (I don’t do it to you) |
That’s not right (that's not right) |
Snoopin through my things (snooooopin through my things) |
I don’t do it to you (and I sho’wouldn’t do it) |
You shouldn’t do that to me (I ain’t gon’do it to you) |
I was sittin in the front just watchin videos |
Readin my magazine, my Vibe magazine, yeah |
I coulda sworn that I turned my damn 2-Way off |
But damn I heard it ring, I think I heard it ring, yeahhh |
If it’s somethin that you think that’s wrong got you feelin insecure |
I’m grown — baby let me know, and then I’ll let you know |
Cause I’m the one that’s footin the bills |
And I’m not the wrong one, that’s for real |
You can get your shit and go, gooooo! |
Now you don’t see me all up in your dresser drawers |
You don’t see me goin through your Jag |
You don’t see me in your celli; |
you don’t see me searchin through your thongs, and you don’t see me though your Gucci bag |
Baby you got the shabazz; |
sometimes you need a swift, kick up the ass |
just to to see how far a foot can go Would you wash it and took it slow, couldn’t though |
Pressure cookin low, bitch I hope you find what you lookin fo' |
I’m losin focus from fuckin witchu, don’t get me charged |
Come in from a show, my whole closet be picked apart |
If anybody should be paranoid in this motherfucker it should be me |
I’m the one smokin hydro by the jars |
You need to leave my stuff alone, go and get some business of your own |
cause me and you ain’t spendin precious time together |
Baby don’t touch mine, I shouldn’t need a «don't touch"sign |
I ain’t explainin nothin, you can find whatever |
And all I gotta say is. |
Now when I get up in your ooh-watcha-katcha |
Move to the mm-ch-ka mm-ch-ka mm-ahh, don’t lie |
You peepin the details of my fax, mail and voice mail |
and E-mail and why sugar, don’t try |
to come up with the justification for what you doin |
The relationship’s about to be ruined for what you persuin |
Steadily tryna see who I’m screwin like I’m fuckin the nation |
It’s nothin but hatin that the homies be doin |
Spittin rumors all up in your ear, tension in the atmosphere |
Baby what’s the mission here, listen here |
You lookin for numbers and fist in hair |
It must be here for a reason so quit before I have to make you disappear |
I can do without you pokin through pockets |
Prophecy’s potent, whatchu peepin fo'? |
I hate the way that all this time to tell what I been thinkin |
shoulda told you when I thought about it a week ago |
But now I’m tellin you. |