Do You

What, what? Bitches backstab with no remorse, fuck bitches They get blasted when I'm lickin off, Heather B Hard hitter, when I'm gettin off, these bitches With no father figures they be trickin off, feel me They beez off the heez knees and naps to show If they try to run between these I blow they doors Put the jinx on em all like they sophomores Cause these bitches got the gall to holla hardcore I'm crackin jaws, Heather B the southpaw, with no look Give a fuck about these bitches, uhh, and that's the hook You know how I'm gon' get it, split it, off the books And you ain't got to love me, trust me, simply hook Chorus: When you countin on your peoples and they don't pull through I'ma do me (you gots to do you) Niggas game so weak I can see right through I'ma do me (you gots to do you) Everybody got a time and I know mine's due I'ma do me (you gots to do you) See you out there gettin yours, gots ta gets mine too I'ma do me (you gots to do you) Heather B, Grand like a Cherokee Loredo, I need my hands on some alfredo Streets condonin it, Back on the Block, Quincy Jonesin it Prada, get publishing, what? I'm owning it huh You feel me now? You get the point? Heather B B B B drops oowops on your joints You really, can't rate me or mistake me for another I Brings In Da Noize And Funk like Savion Glover Wicked, like those sisters and that stepmother Got your clocks strikin twelve I'm bringin hell to Cinderella Fuck how much you sell cause, I read your album cover You couldn't write a jam if your last name was Smucker Got all my motherfuckers yellin Jersey up in here No Limit like Master P I like how he Do Dat There Listen here I'm livin sort of dan-gerous-ly Plus I'm bulletproof no use in aimin at me Chorus I spits pure fire, I burn the finest of designs Heather B that MC that runs up on em from behind Who got your back now, where you ill crew at? The sons you talked about with guns, the ones with gats and all that? I figured that some rap for plaques over, R&B tracks You got to watch, what you say if you ain't really, livin that Another rapper lost, lookin all stank up in The Source What's all that shit fo'? Did your momma, raise a hoe? Fight it, and I win, I'm that rhyme, veteran With that Nighttime Sniffly Sneezin Rest Your Head, Medicine See me live rock on Keenan, and even, Letterman Rock Chris Rock, blow his spot, like nitro-glycerin Hold that like they don't know, but I'm like years ahead of them Plus I shed, more light right, than Thomas, Edison And I'll take it there end your career with one stroke of my pen And I got enough love, I don't need no mo' friends Chorus When they poppin champagne and you only drinkin brew I'ma do me (you gots to do you) When you know you broke as hell and your rent is due I'ma do me (you gots to do you) And you ain't got no love, you know you ain't true I'ma do me (you gots to do you) Frontin with them niggas from that weak ass crew I'ma do me (you gots to do you) And I'm out