Lyrics Big Boi – Gossip

Chorus: Pimp C sample
We gon’ fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!
Niggaz wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip
Niggaz wanna tell it, hoes-hoes wanna gossip

Big Boi
No introductions needed, boi 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 (WOOF!)
I meant to say, blow in the ingredients
And I went to the mall today and all the niggaz had on smediums~!
(Hahaha!) Lil’ bitty-ass clothes
like Dancing with the Stars without the judges or the dance flo’
Oh and niggaz (Don’t Dance No Mo’), all they do is dis
Beef it up, call me Venus Fly Trap, waitin on fly emcees to eat ’em up
I’m fly as I can be, them weak as fuck
And ain’t no keepin up, I’m balls deep and them ain’t deep enough
Fat Sax nigga, Cadillac killer (yep)
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 skrangers, no matter what strain they slangin
Some of the game rules done changed
Niggaz is out chea talkin like a cockatoo, to a cop or two

Chorus

Pimp C
Uh, I’m gettin blowed on the regular
Ridin and talkin dirty on my cellular
Playa I got some young gurls that’ll sell you some
Uh, and if you my homeboy, she gon’ give you some
And it’s all for the paper, but she still gon’ cum
You dippin in the cookie jar and now you sprung
Uh, I’ll have you trippin like you smokin furl
Playa my hoes don’t talk, anybody gon’ tell yo’ girl
Uh, hol’ up

Big K.R.I.T.
Okay, now niggaz wanna tell it, hoes wanna gossip
Cause they pussy wahn’t hittin and they lip was super sloppy
Suck a duck-a motherfucker, rims chop, Lorena Bobbit
Want my money, corner pocket, plenty game hoe
Sop it like a biscuit, King of Diamonds, king of trickin, what’s the difference?
Got it poppin like a skillet with some chicken grease in it
Country boy, country ways, from the belly to the grave
Grow to bet nobody trippin cause the money already made — Krizzle

Chorus

Bun B

Man, I hate it all the time, I got haters in my biz (biz)
Talkin ’bout the trill but don’t know what the fuck it is (is)
Motherfuckers nowadays (days), are seriously sorry (sorry)
Thinkin that the key to life is puttin ya business on Maury (Maury)
You say you rockin Mauri but them motherfuckers Rockport
Always talkin ’bout you bus’in nigga, but ya Glock short (short)
I know the truth so ain’t no need in ya lyin (lyin)
Bullshit ain’t workin, ain’t no need in ya tryin (tryin)
Dyin to be the nigga that’s spied in the telescope
Crime with trilla niggaz, put-iron-to-ya-belly folk
Tellin them tall tales, fibs, and humdangers (dangers)
Save it for Jeremy Kyle, Steve, or Jerry Spranger (Spranger)
Buzzin like a bee, tryna stick me witcha stanger (stanger)
Bitch you can get the middle — (What middle?) The fanger
Stick it in ya ass and let it langer, no homo
and hit the high note like an R&B singer on promo (Hol’ up!)