Fabolous F/ Missy Elliott - "Sickalicious" lyrics

[Fabolous] Uh, huh, Oh! Yeah, Yeah, Uh! Uh! Yeah, Uh Uh! They call me G-H-E-T-T-O Black star power, like B-E-T shows I'm usually pullin up in the G-T slow Flashing my ring finger with the E-T glow I'm that nucca, act rucka Certified plat nucca Take that fucka Lay flat sucka Semi-auto, gat bucca I'm the Negro, amigo Get every bay from Tampa to Montigo They say I got the lifestyle, and the E glow I'm in the blow range, no matter where he go I'm that homie Gat on me I'm the kid not that phony Anybody that know me Knows im here to get that money! Yeah! [Missy Elliott] 24 shoes on my Hummer, and they fitting tiiigghhtt! Heeyyyy! Now get that money, keep them rims spicheeeeyyy! If you a hater make my gun go (Fabolous: Blocka, blocka, blocka, blow!) Fabolous and Missy, Sickalicious righhhhtttt. They call me F-A-B, O-L-O [Fabolous] U-S, you just lay down slow! (Nigga) Spit game, get dames to lay down low (Ohh!) Know this before this, trey pound blow (Uh-Huh) I shop till I drop, when I'm coppin new clothes I'm da poppy cholo, the cops say the tops on the drops is to low I'm that new dude, that include Bop in the hop, but don't stop to use hoes Making sure silencers in the gat is screwed With an it don't even matter mood And a "Fuck you, pay me" attitude I'm that young boy, that slung boy I'm still leaving niggas, at one choice That'll have em saying, where you get that from boy So run when you hear, that gun noise! (Blat!) [Missy Elliott] You say you rich, then come and talk that shit to me (Blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka) Buy your DVD's and TV's, but I like shoes on my Jeep (Blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka) 24-inch wheels, and a good gold grill in the front (Blacka, blacka, blacka, blacka) Gotta closet made for big clothes Gotta do more then treat me to lunch [Chorus] [Fabolous] They call me William H period Bonnie I ride in a seven series with Tommie's And I'm that serious mommy The private jet ski's sick I make another on of America's hotties The motors on the jet ski's quick I'm the one, like the Jet Li flick The clips in the sets be thick And I done slipped more shots in then Gretzky's stick That's why dudes say it's hard to keep my broad away from ya I'm the one like Penny Hardaway's number Once your bitch, get the god 2-way number It'll be hard to get a Happy Father's Day from ya I'm the one, like the piece that's on Nelly's chain You can't reach me, I'm out of your celly range Bitch I'll even put canary's up in your belly chain And just to beat the traffic, hop in a helly main [Chorus]