timbaland – dem jeans lyrics
[hook]
girl, what’s your sign? i pull up right on time
“she don’t f-ck with broke n-gg-s”, you sit on the sideline
back your -ss up, whip that booty, and rewind
i just want to see what’s in ’em jeans like ginuwine
what’s in ’em jeans? what’s in ’em jeans?
bay, you make that booty bend like trampoline
what’s in ’em jeans? what’s in ’em jeans?
all my pretty girls scream, “pretty gang”
[verse 1]
broke boys always talking ’bout
how many hoes they f-ck, how many b-tches they got
but we really wanna know how many coins you got
if you talking ’bout your rap, how many songs you got?
this for my b-tches, all my bad b-tches
only if you independent and after your riches
she a old lady got a young n-gg- in the corner
young n-gg- hit it right and smoked that good marijuana
she’ll have you in the club mad, everybody want her
i think i like her persona, victoria’s secret aroma
late night at the aroma, i took her home and i bone her
she screwed up in the corolla, got her drunk of coronas
jewelry colder than polar, i’m high like the solar
she took it more than oprah, make it clap like magnolia
it’s the first time you seen her, and she act like she know ya
that’s her motive, she burst that wallet open, so i had to ask her
[hook]
girl, what’s your sign? i pull up right on time
“she don’t f-ck with broke n-gg-s”, you sit on the sideline
back your -ss up, whip that booty, and rewind
i just want to see what’s in ’em jeans like ginuwine
what’s in ’em jeans? what’s in ’em jeans?
bay, you make that booty bend like trampoline
what’s in ’em jeans? what’s in ’em jeans?
all my pretty girls scream, “pretty gang”
[verse 2]
i asked her what’s her sign, she told me, “gemini”
i told her, “girl, you lying, that’s the same sign as mine”
but anyway, never mind, back to the subject, “you fine”
i’m tryna see if in them jeans ginuwine
and she don’t like broke boys, broke boys ain’t making no noise
walk around with a check like floyd, she licking at me looking gorgeous
pinky ring the size of orbit, broke boys can’t afford it
look in my pockets on orbit, i’m a free man no morgan
man, you can go to my mansion, it got six stories
hop in the lam’ and drop the top like the headless horseman
telling me stories of her and a broke boy divorce
honestly, i can care less, baby, that ain’t important
i like how them jeans look tight, they show your panties
walking ’round the club got these broke boys panic
when she walk in public, people turn to a mannequin
she done k!lled the whole club, call the ambulance
[hook]
girl, what’s your sign? i pull up right on time
“she don’t f-ck with broke n-gg-s”, you sit on the sideline
back your -ss up, whip that booty, and rewind
i just want to see what’s in ’em jeans like ginuwine
what’s in ’em jeans? what’s in ’em jeans?
bay, you make that booty bend like trampoline
what’s in ’em jeans? what’s in ’em jeans?
all my pretty girls scream, “pretty gang”
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