[Intro: Rick Ross & Foxy Brown]

Yeah

Uh

Pussies don't get pussy

Ooh

Brooklyn

Uh-huh

[Verse 1: Rick Ross]

Kind of short, dark-skinned, she a fly lil' bitch (Foxy)

Be up in all them clubs spillin' Dom P and shit

Know the boy stunt, Jonathan Kelsey clutch

Yves Saint Laurent fonts on her bags to the pumps

G's love her aura, Balenciaga fedora

Lame niggas bore her, struttin' like she Kimora

She'll take a kilo and stuff it up in the Gucci

Brick of that raw, stash it between her coochie

Niggas treat her like an OG

First bitch in the hood with the Bentley Coupe GT

Brooklyn is the team, Alexander McQueen

Bustin' down a bird and balance it with a beam

5'5", slanted eyes, bitch walk is mean

Boucheron bracelets and Armani jeans

They're called skinny, my bitch is like a rasta with it

Black car, red bottoms, only mobster in it

[Chorus: Foxy Brown]

I said, damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up

'09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up

Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of

Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus

Damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up

'09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up, woah

Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of

Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus

[Verse 2: Foxy Brown]

Ayo, Ross, tell them bitches who the boss

The bloodclaat flyest rap bitch in New York

Y'all hoes better bow the fuck down and pay homage

I'm ten million sold and that's SoundScan knowledge

And all y'all rap bitches sound garbage

And me and Ross like the hood version Obamas

Boss keep me stylin' from Giuseppe to my Blahniks

The .38 special in my Chanel stockings

Na Na got the llama in the Hermes duffel

With the fly silver fox Kieselstein-Cord buckle

The Dries van Noten pumps, Nicholas Kirkwood platforms

So ladies, raise your glass to this mad song

[Chorus: Foxy Brown & Rick Ross]

I said, damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up

'09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up

Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of

Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus

Damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up (I love that, baby, don't stop)

'09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up, woah (You make me feel so good)

Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of (I love that, yeah)

Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus

[Verse 3: Rick Ross]

Money ain't a thing, just look at my pinkie rings

So many numbers in the bank, shit could never be the same

Tom Ford velours, my drawers by Michael Kors

And my watch a pretty penny, I'm talkin' hundred or more

My Patek Philippe not for the cheap

And my money in the street way longer than my receipt

Dealin' with the money, no Monie all in the middle

I'm dealin' with who owe me, opponents, they gettin' riddled

Box niggas up, on the ropes

Louis sneakers, Louis luggage, the colognes and soaps

Smellin' like money, my body tatted with hundreds

'09 Bonnie, Clyde, delivered it like I promised

[Chorus: Foxy Brown]

I said, damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up

'09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up

Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of

Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus

Damn, bitch, nigga lovin' me up

'09 Bonnie and Clyde, throwin' it up, woah

Murder, murder, these bitches, they never heard of

Gettin' money, gettin' further, to stashin' a bigger bonus

[Outro: Magazeen]

Bombaclaat

Magazeen

Rise up di K from di gully side

Shoot informant, make him hold his side

Pussy violate, get mi pon mi gully side

Murda, yellow tape, 5-0 ova side

Yeah, we haffi take 'way dey life

Gully side, rise up di K from di gully side

Shoot informant, yes, make him hold hi side

Pussy violate, get mi pon mi gully side

Murda, yellow tape, 5-0 ova side

Magazeen (Magazeen)

See what we mean? (See what we mean?)

Foxy (Foxy), the boss (The boss)

In a difficult class (Different class)

Hear dat, Magazeen, dat a di wol a it