Nick Wiz, Rakim - Milk & Honey lyrics
[Nick Wiz, Rakim - Milk & Honey lyrics]
Look at shorty, son (Word)
Uh, shorty is hot as it get
She ill, ain’t a lot of chicks exotic as this
A perfect specimen, mommy is it
And you ain’t gotta be
A doc to see her body is sick
And when she move
To the music, I lose it she too thick
And always wear exclusive, new shit
Designer shirts and jeans, hair stay done up
Tie up shirts with the
Strings halfway strung-up
Uh, showing her cleavage off
With a strut in her walk like a diva floss
Every squeeze is soft
Her skin is that smooth
A lot of sensitive spots and hidden tattoos
From coast to coast
She like to pose in clothes
Shoes with open toes? You look
Dope in those i got
No composure and no control when you
Expose a little more than
You’re supposed to show
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We’re off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands
Like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra’s show
They turn and halt to the
Land of milk and honey
Look every stitch of her clothes fit her
J lo figure, wanna lay low with her she don’t
Get with no nigga for chips and no glitter
Ballers try to stick her
She pitched a no-hitter
I’m quick to go get her fuck blowing a horn
Knock on the door while she’s throwing it on
She pin it up or wear it out, mommy ready
Look good with any hairstyle like Halle Berry
Dress like a debutante wherever you get
To flaunt: club, concert
Or restaurant whatever
You want ain’t nothing you ain’t already got
Niggas can’t warm you up
You already hot you go
To college, a job, your own dollars
And wheels nail polish, beauty parlor
Get a massage and chill for real
How does it feel to know
You got the goddess appeal?
Damn, you make a nigga wanna holler for real
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We’re off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands
Like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra’s show
They turn and halt to the
Land of milk and honey
They can’t
Understand you ‘cause you over the top
They watch you go up the block
You know that you hot
The type of chick that like to save her
Dough up and shop and put that
Bomb shit on and blow up the spot
I could see you at the beach, martini cup
Wet body, Brazilian bikini cut in a
Tahiti hut, we chilling with glow
So appealing
Plus you got the genie touch you don’t play
When you got that NBA short dress on
Make it bounce even with
A full-court press on
Lady in her bell jers’, back and stomach out
We can get it popping like
That gum in your mouth
And I love the thing you do
When you play with your hair
I take you to affairs with your tasteful wear
Them other lady players? They
Hate what you wear
‘Cause you look like a player’s
Playmate of the year
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We’re off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands
Like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra’s show
They turn and halt to the
Land of milk and honey
Uh, shorty is hot as it get
She ill, ain’t a lot of chicks exotic as this
A perfect specimen, mommy is it
And you ain’t gotta be
A doc to see her body is sick
And when she move
To the music, I lose it she too thick
And always wear exclusive, new shit
Designer shirts and jeans, hair stay done up
Tie up shirts with the
Strings halfway strung-up
Uh, showing her cleavage off
With a strut in her walk like a diva floss
Every squeeze is soft
Her skin is that smooth
A lot of sensitive spots and hidden tattoos
From coast to coast
She like to pose in clothes
Shoes with open toes? You look
Dope in those i got
No composure and no control when you
Expose a little more than
You’re supposed to show
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We’re off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands
Like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra’s show
They turn and halt to the
Land of milk and honey
Look every stitch of her clothes fit her
J lo figure, wanna lay low with her she don’t
Get with no nigga for chips and no glitter
Ballers try to stick her
She pitched a no-hitter
I’m quick to go get her fuck blowing a horn
Knock on the door while she’s throwing it on
She pin it up or wear it out, mommy ready
Look good with any hairstyle like Halle Berry
Dress like a debutante wherever you get
To flaunt: club, concert
Or restaurant whatever
You want ain’t nothing you ain’t already got
Niggas can’t warm you up
You already hot you go
To college, a job, your own dollars
And wheels nail polish, beauty parlor
Get a massage and chill for real
How does it feel to know
You got the goddess appeal?
Damn, you make a nigga wanna holler for real
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We’re off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands
Like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra’s show
They turn and halt to the
Land of milk and honey
They can’t
Understand you ‘cause you over the top
They watch you go up the block
You know that you hot
The type of chick that like to save her
Dough up and shop and put that
Bomb shit on and blow up the spot
I could see you at the beach, martini cup
Wet body, Brazilian bikini cut in a
Tahiti hut, we chilling with glow
So appealing
Plus you got the genie touch you don’t play
When you got that NBA short dress on
Make it bounce even with
A full-court press on
Lady in her bell jers’, back and stomach out
We can get it popping like
That gum in your mouth
And I love the thing you do
When you play with your hair
I take you to affairs with your tasteful wear
Them other lady players? They
Hate what you wear
‘Cause you look like a player’s
Playmate of the year
Ladies from New York, California, Chicago
The Midwest to South to Ciaro
We’re off to Japan, to Morocco
It feel good in your hands
Like silk and money
Dress ghetto with dress like a model
Sweet as sugar but act like she hard though
On the block or the front row at Ra’s show
They turn and halt to the
Land of milk and honey