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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
The LOX
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Blackmon
Songwriter
Jacobs
Songwriter
Phillips
Songwriter
Stewart
Songwriter
Styles
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Lane Craven
Mixing Engineer
Michael Patterson
Recording Engineer
Stephen Dent
Recording Engineer
Lyrics
Uh (yeah), uh (yeah, yo)
If you really dig me, and you think I'm jiggy
Come on, shorty, let me know (let me know, girl)
We can get together, we can do whatever
But you can't get no dough (uh, yo, yo)
Yo, since the Mona video, you been trackin' me down
Tryin' to figure out how I look in personal, baby
Forget looks, tell me, can you roll with crooks?
The three hot niggas rising in the Billboard books
We look at things through the big lens, big picture
Big Benz, we try and make CEO ends (what?)
The thick chicks love us, big dick style niggas (uh-huh)
Cristal niggas, y'all Nestle Quik style niggas
You didn't love me when my name was Sean
Now you should see how bitches act when the Benjamin's come on
But I ain't hatin' 'em, you gotta love the ways females play (uh-huh)
Quickly use a neglige to getta get-away
Five stars where the Willies stay, and Sheek pay for nothing (uh)
But that's what y'all herbs get for frontin'
I spend wild chips gettin' drunk up in the China
Club, while you up in Skate Key wit' a minor
I know she wit' it, I betta brick I could hit it
Black tie affair, I gotta fresh pair of British
Ice Berg shirts wit' Ice along wit' it
Turquoise, 911 Porsche and it's tinted
But honey got a lot of jazz, you gotta philly
You gotta bag, then she went inside the Prada bag
Blew two, and she said it was choice, like my voice
My thug style made her cat moist
That's the realest shit I heard, that's my word
Regardless who she fucked, I'm the nigga she deserves
I put her on to holdin' birds, rockin' furs
Different ways to speak without using words
And even though she proper, I still gotta drop her
'Cause Sheek don't like her, had a dream that he shot her
I can't buy you Escada, you get nada
I'm the bounce with a chick that look a little bit hotter
If you really dig me, and you think I'm jiggy
Come on, shorty, let me know (let me know, girl)
We can get together, we can do whatever (uh-huh, yeah)
But you can't get no dough (uh, yo, yo)
They was never mine for me to dump 'em
It's just like checkers, after they make a move then I jump 'em
It's like this girlfriend, I'm a keep it real
Every nigga with a deal ain't able to peel
I'm a Bad Boy, so I'm caked up with whips
And guess what, I got more nuts than chips
And they gon' melt right in your mouth
Not in your hand, you know that you ain't my girl, I'm not your man
But do you still wanna lick me?
Or is 'cause I'm a six figgy niggy, and I know Biggie
And I don't mess with no fat ladies
But if you pay like you weigh then you can stay, baby
PJ slide to tha mo' like that
With this honey named Trial 'cause she blow like that
And when we finish, don't look at me like I owe nothin'
'Cause if you really dig me, let me know something
If you really dig me (yeah, uh-huh, ay), and you think I'm jiggy
Come on, shorty, let me know (let me know, girl)
We can get together, we can do whatever
But you can't get no dough (uh)
Pissy drunk, laid out in the V.I.P., can't talk about a three-on-three
Heard a freak ask Sheek, "Big Luch why don't you pee on me?"
And her friend is tellin' Jay, "I hold a key on me" (uh-huh)
And I'm laughin' to myself, I got a key on me
And they friend in my ear like lean on me
Told her to get some bare backs and cream on me
Yeah, Sheek holler to these mamis, "Ven aqui"
Gas 'em up easily and take 'em home with me
Who respect this (uh), can't keep her hands off my necklace (uh)
If it's good, next week I'll put her on the guest list
This goes out to all y'all
There's too many names to call but y'all know who y'all are
See me at the bar, all eyes on the R
O-L to the E-X, sip the Henny and VS
112 sex styles, baby
Maybe we can fall in the L.O.X. files
You betta believe we all scorin', yeah
We can dance all night and do whatever all mornin', ha ha, (yeah)
If you really dig me, and you think I'm jiggy (what up?)
Come on, shorty, let me know (let me know, girl)
We can get together, we can do whatever
But you can't get no dough (uh, yeah)
If you really dig me, and you think I'm jiggy
Come on, shorty, let me know (let me know, girl)
We can get together, we can do whatever
But you can't get no dough
Writer(s): Sean Combs, Steve Harley, Duane S. Hitchings, David Styles, Jason Phillips, Sean Jacobs, Carmine Jr. Appice
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