Big Momma Thang Lyrics - Hardcore - Lil' Kim

You got it goin' on, wha wha 

Wha, wha 

You got it goin' on, wha wha 

Wha, wha 

You got it goin' on, wha wha 

Wha, wha 

You got it goin' on, wha wha 

I used to be scared of the dick now I throw lips to the shit 

Handle it like a real bitch, Heather Hunter, Janet Jack-me 

Take it in the butt, yeah, yazz wha 

I got land in Switzerland, even got sand in the Marylands 

Bahamas in the spring, baby, it's a big momma thang 

Can't tell by the diamonds in my rings 

That's how many times I wanna cum, twenty one 

And another one, and another one, and another one 

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Twenty four carats nigga that's when I'm fuckin' wit' the average nigga 

Work the shaft, brothers be battin' me, and oh 

Don'tcha like the way I roll and play wit' my bushy 

Tell me what's on your mind when your tongues in the pussy 

Is it marriage, baby carriage? Shit no, on a dime shit is mine 

Got to keep 'em comin' all the time 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me 

How B.I.G. and 'Un' trust you in the studio with me 

Don't they know I'm tryin' to sex you continuously 

Pull a high power coup make, you jump ship 

Leave who you wit', I'm with the Roc-A-Fella crew 

Photos 

Trip you for the cheese, tear your boom up 

Spread a ill boomer, make you flip on Little Ceas 

Pushin' backwards, get the doe from your platinum hits 

Rock Little Kim hats and shit 

I gets down and dirty for the doe, I got love and Big know it 

He must got the studio bug 

Probably, as we speak he's on his way up the street 

With the mafia thugs and all types of heat 

But I ain't tryin' to beef, I'm just tryin to eat 

Horizontally, the way I hold my iron, sweet 

And, no, my niggas, but I like the sound 

Lil' Kim and Jigga, it sound like figures 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me 

Before I caught some niggas disease, got caught with his ki's 

Big scooped a young bitch off her knees 

Threw me at high priced Beam's 

Face on TV's, platinum CD's 

Shit, I never fought saw a nigga wha, pussy greased up 

Stack the g's up, keeps the knees up 

What the fuck, stay fillin', half a million 

Geneva Diva, yeah, I throws it down 

Lay around, clown the clock stops for no one 

Never sixty eight and owe one, takes one to know one 

Better off wit the Playboy magazines uh, fuckin' wit da Don 

Push the keys, G's threes for pape's 

Yeah, I ride crate state to state 

Lieutenant takes mad dimes from New York to Anaheim 

While you daydreamin' wine, I'll just keep gettin' mine 

And I'm married to this ya'll strategy misses still plannin' weddin's 

Mafia also deadens all the bullshit 

Any type of threatens to pull shit 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me 

Killas be quiet, my nigga bring the riots 

Tough talk, tough walk, shit is tired 

You wanna be this Queen B, but ya can't be 

That's why you're mad at me