Ms. Martin (with Remy Martin)

Yeah, sometimes you gotta fool 'em

Sometimes you gotta send a woman to do a man's job, nahmean

In this case, my girl hit like a grown motherfuckin' man

Y'all niggas better lay low

Catch you where it hurt, nawmean

Blow your balls off nigga

Where my girl at, quick to bust the mack, better believe that

She always got my back, nigga twirl that

About to blaze a sack, where the weed at

She don't know how to act, cause that's my girl black

With that monster rap, better believe that

You know the Bronx is back, she represent that

Cause Terror Squad got her back, some say heed that

My niggas love to scrap

I inhale the deepest, cock back and bust rhymes at your speakers

I'm troubled, shoot out the air bubbles in your sneakers

The type to cop a Range along with all the features

Then take the back streets to avoid the leeches

A pregnant bitch talk shit, I'mma destroy her fetus

Her dead baby popped this pussy, and his boys can't beat us

Straight strong armin', bombardin', and bogardin'

Remi don't write her own rhymes, nigga, I beg your pardon

It's Ms. Martin I done broke night in the studio writin'

While fraud broads don't get no publishin, still be bitin'

They kill me lyin, like they the ones doin the scribin'

When you can hear the ghostwriter, all up in they rhymin'

I flows like water, got this drizzle with little C

Catch me with Pun eatin Skittles in the middle of Little Italy

Y'all don't know diddly, I spit hot and drop shit

Every time I kick a rhyme, Pun I burn my lip

Take another pull, bust another shot, y'all can't stop me

Come through in a jail suit, and the new Beef 'n' Broccolis

Doin it, If I'm havin a good time and you ruin it

I seen a nice casket that'll look good with you in it

New improved shit, the year start with a two shit

Next millenium, sell a million, clue shit

Exclusive, to tell the truth, y'all useless

Cause I'm a dime that could rhyme you still on the deuce list

Remi Martin, dash, reminisce, slash

Remi, cash like a check in a stash

Me without rhymes is like a flynt with no flash

Stripper with no ass, car with no gas

Tryna go fast, I love to hear the guns go blast

I love the sounds of the shells fallin' down

Love to smoke weed, stay blowin' trees, fuck liquor

When shit get thick, I love to hear my bitches raise his clique up

You sick, but I'm sicker, plus our guns is bigger

If you really wanna kill us, do it nigga pull the trigga

How you figure, you could really come and take what's mine

And all I gotta do is send a little letter to Rah

He'll send the troops out, my brother don't hesitate to pull a tool out

And I'm his little sis, so he taught me the same shit

Quick to flip, but your name should be prickless

Cause every time you open your mouth, you suckin' my dick

Talkin shit, as if you a soldier nigga

When you a no cash, low class, doja nigga

Y'all rock rocks, we bling bling boulders nigga

Look over your shoulder I'm in the Rover, it's over nigga

Inhale, cock back and bust, just because

I know none of y'all busters is touchin' us

I got the thoroughest thugs and, baby reminisces

That don't give a fuck, with a aim that never misses

Hugs and kisses never, just slugs and stiches

Thugs and bitches forever, check the mugshot pictures

Fuck the weather, I still got my tan Timbs on

Just copped the pink mink, and winter been gone

I been on this thug shit y'all can't seem to fuck wit

My shit is hot dogs, to top it off, still spittin' mustard

No fair, cause I don't care I go to war wit a musket

Just give me some Oreos, a jar of dro and two dutches

Cause Pun be the nicest motherfucker on the market

Now he got the nicest bitch, what, Remi Martin