Oh Yeah Lyrics - Broken Silence - Foxy Brown

[Verse One] 

I'm the most critically acclaimed, rap bitch in the game 

Coast to coast, stash the gat in holster girl 

Dark skinned, Christian Dior poster girl 

Mo' rockin Timbs bitch and the Gucci loafers girl 

Niggaz say I'm too pretty to spit rhymes this gritty 

Fuck y'all thought? Be dancin around in suits like I'm {Diddy} 

Pretty, show niggaz how we run this city 

Respect my name, Boogie nigga, stay in ya lane 

Like The Hurricane, rains on bitches like Sugar Shane 

And dare one of y'all rappin chicks to mention Fox name 

"What's Beef?" beef is when bitches 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 fuckin world, I speak how I feel 

Sometimes I feel like I'm just too fuckin real 

I love to stack riches, no disrespect y'all 

I respect the rap game, but I don't fuck with rap bitches 

I'm speakin from my heart 

It's not that I'm too good, I'm just hood 

Been like this from the fuckin start 

Since I bust my gun in ninety-six 

Y'all never see me flick up with them fake-ass chicks 

Bitches smile up in your face, turn around and pop shit 

You a industry bitch, I'm in the streets bitch 

I might breeze through Prada, Chloe or Tiffs 

But, other than that it's just me and my six 

[Chorus] 

[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 pours off like Screechie Don, 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 niggaz 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 have a gun in the place 

I'm like Marion Jones, what, who the FLUCK wan' race? 

Listen, never trippin, never catch Brown slippin 

Fuck, y'all only nice around mics like Pippen 

Shit, to all my thugs that's Blood'n or Crip'n 

I'm still shittin, still lowridin and switch-hittin nigga 

[Chorus x2]