
Real Sick Lil' Kim (Ft. Jadakiss)
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Real Sick" от Lil' Kim (Ft. Jadakiss). Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Chorus: Jadakiss, The Notorious B.I.G. & Lil' Kim]
Real sick— R— R—
Real sick— R— R—
Real sick— R— R—
Real sick (Aha, uh)
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick (Uh)
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick
Lil'— (Real sick) Lil'— Lil' Kim is phenomenal (Uh)
Queen— (Real sick) Queen— Queen Bee, phenomenal (Uh)
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick
Real sick— phenomenal
[Verse 1: Lil' Kim]
It's Lil' Kim, the one they all love and hate
The Queen's back, bitches, regurgitate
I got these hoes real sick like a stomach ache
Blue-faced Rollies, animals on my vertebrae
We out the country, nah, we don't do States
Married to the game, nah, we don't do dates
I'm eatin' good, but I gotta watch my weight
Fourteen carats in my salad gold plate (Hahaha)
I treat the track like a bedpan
I got ill thoughts, need a head scan
Got that old money like the Bread Man
That's why these bitches all rotten like a dead man
From London to Italy, Romania to France
I'm diplomat status, check the passport stamps
You hoes is pathetic, faker than prosthetics
Somebody call the paramedics
Real sick— R— R—
Real sick— R— R—
Real sick— R— R—
Real sick (Aha, uh)
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick (Uh)
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick
Lil'— (Real sick) Lil'— Lil' Kim is phenomenal (Uh)
Queen— (Real sick) Queen— Queen Bee, phenomenal (Uh)
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick
Real sick— R— R— R— R— Real sick
Real sick— phenomenal
[Verse 1: Lil' Kim]
It's Lil' Kim, the one they all love and hate
The Queen's back, bitches, regurgitate
I got these hoes real sick like a stomach ache
Blue-faced Rollies, animals on my vertebrae
We out the country, nah, we don't do States
Married to the game, nah, we don't do dates
I'm eatin' good, but I gotta watch my weight
Fourteen carats in my salad gold plate (Hahaha)
I treat the track like a bedpan
I got ill thoughts, need a head scan
Got that old money like the Bread Man
That's why these bitches all rotten like a dead man
From London to Italy, Romania to France
I'm diplomat status, check the passport stamps
You hoes is pathetic, faker than prosthetics
Somebody call the paramedics
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