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jean grae - what the hell lyrics

[hook]
n-gga what? what?
what the h-ll are y’all looking for?
can’t a black woman make money anymore?
what the h-ll are y’all looking for?
can’t a black girl write rhymes anymore?
c’mon, what the h-ll are y’all looking for?
can’t a black woman get money anymore?
nah really
what the f-ck are you looking at?
seriously, stop it

[verse]
logically i should be ahead of the game
p-ss spit flame rhymes, p-ssed in fame time so i claim mine
contain minors ready to bust, steadily cuss you
like a t-tourette’s stutter motherf-cker none of you want it
i’m pumping your stomach, i’m hungry i need it you waste it
i’m creeping so close that i can finally taste it
it’s fire like bile an hour one mile
with the final destination god bless me, the child
and all the trials and tribulations compiled to make me
i’m still faceless but they all see
number 3 on the wait list, flow is weightless
and my show is graced with an impeccable sense of hatred
smile sinister rhyme regular never get it
i administer punishment like the bad lieutenant
i’m flo jo with a bad knee, i go slow
except when guns blow i’m joyner-kersee
i know y’all enjoyin’ the curse at first listen
then change your positions by the start of verse 3
give in, screw till it hurts but remove your distaste
before i prove your waist jerks the other way from face first
pray till god stops answerin’ but you may not get off your knees
till he himself puts a hand on ’em
i’m penning anthems this year, get up and stand for them
up your grands and pennies i got plans for them
do a handstand on your bandstand right in your show man
kick a speaker left stage in the front row
run slow even at gun smoke, my lungs toke
enough sh-t to make a fireman think he gonna choke
done woke yet? i shine like the sun but don’t set
so bright, still not in my prime yet
cut off your privates get blood on your eyelids
red splash so high then it rains on you violent
try and test you get divided with pliers i’m restless
i got you on a death wish check list
like uma thurman i’m losin’ hurt them
insert your crew here jerk red dot murder them
i can’t stop serving ’em, i am not certain
that you’re real clear jean is the sickest, you’re learning ’em
get your bars up like cali done said
i got mine, it’s just over your head now

[hook]
what the h-ll are you looking for?
can’t a black woman make money anymore?
c’mon, what the f-ck are you looking for?
can’t a black girl write rhymes anymore? sh-t!
what the f-ck are y’all looking for?
can’t a black woman make money anymore n-gga?
nah seriously
don’t f-cking look at me, i’ll f-cking smack you
stop f-cking looking at me
i’ll f-cking smack you right, right in the f-cking face

- jean grae lyrics

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