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Gossip

Gossip Lyrics Big Boi feat. Big K.R.I.T & UGK

Album: Vicious Lies & Dangerous Rumors

We gon’ fire (fire)
Get it? Fire (fire)

Niggas wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip
Niggas wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip
Niggas wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip

[Verse 1: Big Boi]
No introductions needed boy just call me the undefeated (big)
And underneath this Georgia dry I know I can’t be seen with (bigger)
Bifocals because my vocals are classic
Like Coca Cola when they had cocaine in the package
I meant to say blow in the ingredients
I went to the mall today and all the niggas had on ‘smediums’
Little bitty ass clothes
Like Dancing with the Stars without the judges or the dance floor, oh
And niggas don’t dance no more, all they do is diss
Beef it up, call me venus fly trap, waiting on fly emcees to eat ‘em up
I’m fly as I can be, them weak as fuck
And ain’t no keeping up, I’m balls deep and them ain’t deep enough
Fat sacks, Cadillac killer, cataract prescription filler
I got my medicinal card from Los Angeles, the city of lost angels
A connoisseur of cannabis and from Atlanta bitch
We never shop with strangers, no matter what strain they slanging
Some of the game rules done changed
Niggas is out here talking like a cockatoo
To a cop or two
Now they watching you and your mama too
Bird’s eye view (view)

[Hook x2]

[Verse 2: Pimp C]
I’m getting blowed on the regular
Ridin’ and talking dirty on my cellular
Player, I got some young girls that’ll sell you some
And if you my homeboy, she gon’ give you some
And it’s all for the paper but she still gon’ cum
You dipping in the cookie jar and now you’re sprung
I’ll have you tripping like you smokin’ furl
Player my hoes don’t talk, anybody gon’ tell yo girl
[Verse 3: Big Krit]
Okay, now niggas wanna tell it
Hoes wanna gossip
Cause they pussy wasn’t hittin’ and they lips was super sloppy
Sucker, duck a motherfucker, rims chopped, Lorena Bobbitt
Want my money corner pocket, plenty game, ho, sop it
Like a biscuit, King of Diamonds, king of tricking, what’s the difference?
Got it popping like a skillet with some chicken grease in it
Country boy, I’m country raised, from the belly to the grave
Roll the piff, nobody tripping cause the money already made
Krizzle!

[Hook x2]

[Verse 4: Bun B]
Man, I hate it, all the tim I got haters in my biz
Talkin’ ’bout the trill but don’t know what the fuck it is
Motherfuckers nowadays, are seriously sorry
Thinking that the key to life is putting your business on Maury
You say you rocking Maury but that motherfucker’s Rockport
Always talking ’bout you bustin’, nigga, but your Glock short
I know the truth so ain’t no need in your lying
Bullshit ain’t working, ain’t no need in your trying
Dying to be the nigga that’s spyin’ in the telescope
Cryin’ when trilla niggas put iron to your belly, folk
Tellin’ them tall tales, fibs, and humdingers
Save it for Jeremy Carr, Steve or Jerry Springer
Buzzing like a bee, tryna stick me with your stinger
Bitch you can get the middle (“What middle?”) The finger
Stick it in your ass and let it linger
No homo
And hit the high note like an R&B singer on promo

[Outro: Big Boi]
Never trust a man with a butter knife, a plastic butter knife
Never trust a man with a butter knife, a plastic butter knife
Never trust a man with a butter knife, a plastic butter knife
Never trust a man with a butter knife, a plastic butter knife

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