Notorious B.I.G. - Nasty Boy Lyrics

Sende den "Notorious B.I.G. – Nasty Boy" Klingelton an dein Handy

Come on, yeah come on, yeah
Come on, yeah, come on, yeah
Come on, yeah, come on, yeah
Come on, yeah, come on,
Come on, come on, yeah, come on, yeah

Uh, I go, on and on and on and
Don’t take them to the crib unless they bonin‘
Easy, call ‚em on the phone and
Platinum Chanel cologne and
I stay, dressed, to impress
Spark these bitches interest
Sex is all I expect
If they watch TV in the Lex, they know
They know, quarter past fo‘
Left the club tipsy, say no mo‘
Except how I’m gettin‘ home, tomorrow
Caesar drop you off when he see his P.O., uh
Back of my mind I hope she swallow (Uh-huh)
Man, she split a drink on my cream Wallows
Reach the gate, hungry just ate
Riffin‘, she got to be to work by eight
This must mean she ain’t tryin‘ to wait
Conversate, sex on the first date, I state
You know what you do to me
She starts off, „well I don’t usually“
Then I, whipped it out, rubber no doubt
Step out, show me what you all about
Fingers in your mouth, open up your blouse
Pull your G-string down south, aow!
Threw that back out, in the parking lot
By a Cherokee and a green drop-top
And I don’t stop, until I squirt
Jeans skirt, butt-naked it all work

You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty

I remember we, went to Tennessee
Then we came home, mad messages was on my phone
Bitch named Symone
Screamin‘, she feenin‘, for the semen
Me bein‘, the man that I am
Took her to her condo, pronto
Half Indian, I called her Tonto
Roll the chron’chron‘ in the dark pronto
Few puffs, eyes got low
And off to the bedroom we go
Sex is drama, head is trauma
Rip pajamas, I’mma stay ‚til tomorrow
Satisfyin‘ all my needs twice
With the whipped cream, handcuffs and ice
The bitch is nice, word is bond
Can’t wait to put my niggas on, what, what?

You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty

Ladies, my Mercedes
Hold fo‘ in the back, two if you’re fat
Keep a gat, for cats that try to test me
They just fans like DeNiro, Wesley
Let’s see, the bitch I’m waitin‘ on
Cartier jeans look like they painted on
Ask P, leave it up to me
Lay her on her back ever so gently
She like the way the dough fold up, Rolls roll up
Cristal just throw up, bitch grow up
Hold up, there’s DeGenero
Dripped out, Iceberg apparel
Intro goes without speaking
Call me Cease ‚cause I keep ‚em, we can go freakin‘
All weekend, so, roll in
Ain’t it good that my Lex keeps foldin? Uhh

You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty
You nasty boy, you nasty

Songwriter: SEAN COMBS, STEVEN A JORDAN, CHRISTOPHER WALLACE
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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