N.B.A.

Yeah.. a message to the N.B.A. ("well that's alright") The National, Basketball, Association We begin ("well that's alright") Your man is a tourin nigga, six-foot-eight floss nigga Who carries champagne in the club with Coogi sweaters Borin nigga, no game havin Less rap skill, N.B.A. nigga with a studio you ill Don't you know my game terrorize Six-foot-three guards on the microphone, my lyrics kill Why don't you awkward niggas stop rhymin and take a birth control pill Jackson got you gassed, ask Phil I'm not impressed with your full court press Girls with Tyra Banks weaves, and Lisa Raye's complexion Can step up to the foul line for an AIDS test My jewelry like big trucks I don't care if you flash your Milwaukee Bucks Even bodyguards couldn't protect you ducks I care less if you a Trailblazer My cris-cross on girls is sharp, y'all get cut off with a razor Even if you have braids like Latrell I got more numbers in my system than Pacific Bell Pass the basketball around and go tell Smoother than Rick Fox puttin on his hair gel Groupies don't have to know me, just swallow my sperm when you blow me Keith look in the club for your celebrity jump shooters Tall lean men who can't read books to they kids need tutors You cats got the nerve to try to stop my tomahawk dunks By e-mailing, golddiggers on computers Leap over y'all with color and fashion Lame assholes in black pinstripe suits, keep steppin and passin Beyond the youse-a-baby, you broke finished payin for them car notes I'm the championship nigga youse a loser ("well that's alright") P.I.S.S., on the N.B.A. ("well that's alright") N.B.A. niggas! National Basketball Association N.B.A. bitches! (N.B.A. play) National Basketball Association (The N.B.A. Association..) {*singer ad libs*} (N.B.A. niggas, house niggas, slave owner niggas..)