Spragga Benz - Oh Yeah lyrics

[Verse One] I'm the most critically acclaimed, rap b**h in the game [Chorus] Why Yoooooooo, Why yo yo yo Why Yoooooooo, Why yagga ya yo Why Yoooooooo, Why yo yo yo Why Yoooooooo, Why yagga ya yo (yagga yo) [Verse 1] Coast to coast, stash the gat in holster girl Dark skinned, Christian Dior poster girl I'm a rockin Timbs b**h and the Gucci loafers girl n***as say I'm too pretty to spit rhymes this gritty f** y'all thought? Be dancin around in suits like I'm {​Diddy}​ Pretty, show n***as how we run this city Respect my name, Boogie n***a, stay in ya lane Like The Hurricane, rains on b**hes like Sugar Shane And dare one of y'all rappin chicks to mention Fox name "What's Beef?" Beef is when b**hes think it's sweet See y'all frontin in the streets and let my gat meet ya [Chorus] Why Yoooooooo, Why yo yo yo Why Yoooooooo, Why yagga ya yo Why Yoooooooo, Why yo yo yo Why Yoooooooo, Why yagga ya yo (yagga yo) [Verse Two] Check, uhh It's like I'm in my own f**in world, I speak how I feel Sometimes I feel like I'm just too f**in real I love to stack riches, no disrespect y'all I respect the rap game, but I don't f** with rap b**hes I'm speakin from my heart It's not that I'm too good, I'm just hood Been like this from the f**in start Since I bust my gun in ninety-six Y'all never see me flick up with them fake-a** chicks b**hes smile up in your face, turn around and pop sh** You a industry b**h, I'm a in the streets b**h I might breeze through Prada, Chloe or Tiffs But, other than that it's just me and my six Repeat 1 [Verse Three] I dream filthy My moms and pops mixed it with the Trini' rum and whiskey Uhh, proper set off Six sped off, gats let off, I speak calm Gangsta, and pose off like Screechie Dan, bwoy Who y'all know rock Prada like Fox Pop bottles in the back of the cellar with Donatella Cartier wrist wear, Pasha Kay face Got n***as stand in line just to get a sneak taste Act like y'all don't know I keeps gat beneath waist And like a hundred thou' each crib in each safe When Fox come through she ah go dun di place I'm like Marion Jones, what, who the FLUCK wan' race? Listen, never trippin, never catch Brown slippin f**, y'all only nice around mics like Pippen sh**, to all my thugs that's Blood'n or Crip'n I'm still sh**tin, still lowridin and switch-hittin n***a Repeat 1 - 2X