| Yeah! |
| This here’s the anthem y’all. |
| That one girl who’s always at the show
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| For one reason only. |
| Next time y’all see her, I want y’all to say.
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| Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi (Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi)
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| Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh (Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
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| Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee (Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee)
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| Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay (Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay)
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| Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi (Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi)
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| Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh (Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
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| Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee (Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee)
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| Whoa-oh-oh (Whoa-oh-oh)
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| Now here’s a story 'bout a girl that I’m sure you all know
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| She turns around when they yell (Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
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| You always see her at the shows, Gucci glasses on her nose
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| Too much make up on her face or hardly wearin any clothes
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| She ain’t interested in flows, and she knows it’s a fact
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| She’s always early but ain’t trynna see the openin' act
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| She wants the dough she could stack
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| She startin' local wit rap
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| She in the front row but really trynna go to the back
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| Oh, excuse me, let me introduce you to the groupie
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| Flash the car keys and the sharpie, you can autograph the coochie
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| Now ask yourself, «How many stars can one chick date?»
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| Her little black book resembles Kay Slay mixtapes
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| She got 2 Source covers, 4 Grammy nominees
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| A hot 16 in the cypher’ll prolly have her on her knees
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| But she’ll have you beggin' please, cuz she’s always on her toes
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| And there’s a simple way to call her, let me tell you how it goes…
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| Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi (Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi)
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| (She's a…) Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh (Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
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| (She's in…) Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee (Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee)
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| (Now if you know her say…) Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay (Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay)
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| Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi (Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hi)
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| (She's a…) Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh (Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
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| (She's in…)Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee (Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee)
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| (Now if you know her say…) Whoa-oh-oh (Whoa-oh-oh)
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| Backstage, dressin' room, just finished rippin' a set
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| I could hardly feel my legs, my body drippin' wit sweat
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| There was a knock at the door, I said «It's open»
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| She walked in, a face I never seen before, but I could never forget
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| Then she walks up to me, goes to whisper in my ear and pulls me near
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| It’s pretty clear, this chick is tryin' to seduce me
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| She leans in closer, grabs me by the hand
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| Puts it underneath her shirt that read «I'm with the band…»
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| When I finished reading that, she was unzippin' my pants
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| I tried to speak, but she just said (shhh) «I'm in command»
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| And I ain’t mad at it, in fact, the shit is fantastic
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| Till she said somethin sporadic — «You know I loved you on Illmatic…»
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| But I didn’t let it phase me, I just figured she was crazy
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| Then she said, «Ether was fire dog, you really crushed Jay-Z»
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| Man, you shoulda seen my eyes, she really took me by surprise
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| And I just thought — oh shit, this bitch thinks that I’m Nas…
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| Now when you see her at a show
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| You wanna get this girl to blow
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| Just tell her you could flow
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| (Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hiiii)
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| You don’t really have to prove it
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| She don’t listen to the music
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| The truth is she kinda stupid
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| (Ho-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh)
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| Don’t get gassed if she hollas
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| Cuz she’s all about the dollars
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| But I tell you this, she swallows
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| (Hi-dee-hi-dee-hi-dee-hiiii)
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| Take it from yours truly
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| There’ll never be a better groupie
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| Every rappers needs a Suzie
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| (Whooooa oh-oh)
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| Th. |
| That was great. |
| What’d you say your name was? |
| Su-Suzie? |
| Iight. |
| ok.
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| Yeah, yooooou gotta get the fuck outta here. |
| Ok? |
| No, well ya see. |
| here’s
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| Some cab money to bounce. |
| I got a. |
| I got a date… No, I got a date with
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| This chick who thinks I’m Busta Rhymes… PEACE! |