Foxy Brown We Makin` It Lyrics

We Makin` It Lyrics

Intro:

Yo, turn me up

Verse 1 [Foxy]:

What ya'll know bout bangin' out?/ Till there's nothin' left stash box mag 4s
all up in the dashboards/ Look, ya'll think we get this cash for?/ We gon'
front till we die/ Throw that money in the sky homie/ I rock the movies ya'll
know already/ But it's necessary I style in Bergberry/ Young Fox I run hip-hop/
Niggas know them hits won't stop bet them clips will pop/ Bet I be in that big
body Rover/ Frontin' hard in the squad L-V on them loafers/ I'm an ill bitch I
styles like I'm supposed to/ Niggas in the big gettin' right off my posters/ In
the pearl white hatch back got my swagger back and I don't know how to act
nigga/ My groove is on my team is strong/ Hey yo Gav please bring that
motherfucker home(???)

Chorus [Young Gavin]:

This is what we came to do/ Gettin' money playboy we ain't playin' wit' you/
Who the one that got the streets on lock/ Somebody better call the cops/ What
we doin' huh?/ [Sung] We makin' it/ Fever hit/ Ya'll know it's Fox/ She keeps
it hot

Verse 2 [Foxy]:

And I bring it to bitches for real/ Special delivery/ Five years strong and
they still tryin' to get rid of me/ But I'm still here niggas/ I do this for
Gav to keep them young boys runnin' through the av/ Have the team lookin' good
I be's in the hood/ Dubs on the wheels and Bs on the hood/ Pop 50 bottles/
Hello to Hollywood/ I'm so gutter athlete's sweat suit with the hood/ Might
flip it on these bitches and throw in a plain sood(???)/ Hit a real good shoot
lookin' real fuckin' good/ Start our her label, she'll never be able/ Now I
styles on niggas and I turn the tables/ Now means with Kev and Lyor on the
round table/ In a three-quarter butter brown Sable/ Ya'll niggas hustlin' deals
and I'm still on the grind/ Tryin' to appeal still be in bushels of mils

(Chorus [Young Gavin]

Verse 3 [Foxy]:

Irate the weak movin' a brick in half a week/ And it's hard to eat in these
Brooklyn streets/ The truth is you bitches only live in a booth/ I move big
sixty deuce that's Prada goose nigga/ Throw our money out our prowler roof I'm
about to tightin' the nooze they talkin' loose/ Man, me and Gav in the blast
Tyson's bout to get them belts back/ Brooklyn's back nigga