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clipse - ain't cha lyrics

[hook: pharrell]
hmmm, you trynna get some good fame ain’t cha?
hmmm, you trynna slang in tha rain ain’t cha?
hmmm, you trynna save for tha range ain’t cha?
hmmm, you trynna perfect your aim ain’t cha?
hmmm, you trynna get a big chain ain’t cha?
hmmm, with the medallions and the rings ain’t cha?
hmmm, gon’ getcha air force plane ain’t cha?
say what? so you can get that hood fame ain’t cha?

[verse 1: pusha t]
through despair i traipse, baking pies, baking cake
hustling them e’s and that c’s and that h
while you probably talking frantic on the tape
n-ggas in the hood ain’t trynna to hear “man it was a mistake”
they’ll call you a b-tch, not a bandit at ya wake
epitaph reading how much damage you could take
while i’m on the boat with ya b-tch, salmon on the plate
i know why you liked her, the head, it was great
loving these bezels sets, change with no sp-ce
86 karats, you know how much digging in the planet this could take?
patent leather bapes… (uh, uh!) closet like planet of the bape!
monkey see, monkey do, monkeys following in place
like i’m living in an episode of planet of the apes
you’re watching the evolution of one of rap’s greats
you n-ggas trynna take my place? never happen

[verse 2: sandman]
dig it, every time i do it, encore
slide out the lincoln with the suicide doors
ma, and i’m blingin’ like baby with all that sh-t on
my block pop til all that sh-t gone
what? you p-ssies hardly eat
what you spend on a home is a gaudy piece
on the chest of a biz-oss, it’s a must i fliz-oss
my dream team wrestle for cheese like eric bischoff
from the kickoff to tip off, i give off rays from the vvs
ice glazed like lip gloss
thinking they can see me, i beg to diff-arr
look up in the skiz-eye, it the big dip-arr
(that’s cold!) its chilly in philly, its that real
n0body know karate, more bodies than k!ll bill
somebody get beside me, lord, will his blood spill
like a waterfall, f-ck around make me slaughter y’all

[verse 3: malice]
oh you just gon’ take without asking ain’t cha?
you just grabbin’, you ain’t earnin’ for sh-t, that’s too old-fashion
look, tulip, i will never tuck a jewel up
kindergarten did they not tap your knuckle with the ruler?
i’m the era of the juice crew, don’t let that dookie noose you
1 and 1 is 2, its just as simple as blue’s clues
the nine will get most of you, turn yourself around
for he who want to run up and earn himself a crown
meanwhile study something n-gga, this gucci, parker
from france where the kids sing frere jacques
if not there, i’m somewhere mixing vodkas
in a far off land, where they shake maracas and sh-t
keep it moving like in kis of c0ke
you the hunted motherf-cker, and i’m benicio
not tommy lee, see we never involve the law
if it seems the walls are closing in, it’s only ‘cause they are
motherf-cker

[verse 4: ab-liva]
i’m a natural born hustler, i, the risk taker
i get it cross the border, the alpha the omega
my life, i scripted the paper posh like the wrist in the cradle
that hug the diamonds that kiss for you haters
grimaldi, is so gaudy
but its just so picture-perfect as i lean in that six-forty-
five ci, i’m on them blades likes t.i
the n-ggas hate to measure ‘cause they knee high
still slingin’ that p-i, e what i bring by
me 50 cal, pretty desert up my sleeve, i
still hugging that corner so tight it can’t breathe, i
can’t let it go, ‘cause a n-gga got to eat, i
came to conquer the game, the flame and the powder
and the pot, stirred it crazy, i’m a lead-a
still in the game, tipping the scale like libra
you don’t really want that halo over your caesar! no!

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