Timbaland - Wit Yo Bad Self Lyrics

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[Timbaland]

Here we go again

Ha ha, here we go again

Make it hot, uhh

(Yeah) Here we go again

Make it hot Mad

Huh, here we go again

We're gon' make it hot

Ha ha, here we go again

(Yo) Skillz

[Mad Skillz]

Now listen, baby girl, I don't like kissin

Flip your back out, and we can start twistin

Check the intuition, the dime definition

Cop all the rocks that sparkle and glisten

Where your man at? Yo, that cat missin

I got you on the line, you mine, no fishin

Satisfaction, no competition

We rock the V-12, we leave him the 6's

What's the deal? Fulfill every wish and

Haters keep hatin, dissers keep dissin

We rich and, I take you out on a mission

You can make it hot, what I do make it sizzle

Keep you lookin jig', your nails to precision

Got your girls jealous, to be you them chicks wishin

Hit it on the bullseye Boo no missin

Keep swishin, you see gold like Slick Rick and

Chorus: Timbaland (repeat 2X)

Lyrics provided by http://www.kovideo.net/

Source - http://www.kovideo.net/wit-yo-bad-self-lyrics-timbaland-757712.html

(Go ahead Daddy, go ahead) Wit' yo' bad self

(Go ahead Daddy, go ahead) Wit' yo' bad

(Go ahead Daddy, go ahead) Wit' yo' bad self

(Go ahead Daddy, go ahead) Wit' yo' bad

[Mad Skillz]

Now what you want? Prada, Escada, you got that

The way the one's stack ain't no way that you can stop that

You in the way girl? Boom when I block that

Treated your physique like a beat and I rock that

You got your Hustle? I ain't tryin to Knock that

Drop carats and the ring, make sure the rock's fat

You can rise, but you ain't tryin to stop that

You'd think I had the keys Boo the way I locked that

Oh that's your man? I think it's time to drop that

Lay it off, play it off, yeah you get the props back

You get the dress, I get the cane and the top hat

After we done Boo, I let you run the clock back

Fallin in love? Oh never not that

Who you know who control where they gettin jocked at?

And in Vegas I'm hittin it up like a slot rack

If you think you runnin game girl you need to botch that

Chorus

[Mad Skillz]

Now when you came in the door, I seen you before

A dime, fine all the way to the core

Thick enough to make a nigga drop to the floor

Talked in your ear til my throat got sore

Lames, she could see my game was straight raw

Specially since she bought my tape right out the store

She was like, "Ain't you 'sposed to be out on tour?"

"Since you ain't tryin to go Boo, what you askin for?"

Need I say more, from the 8-oh-4

If you placin bets girl, then you best be sure

Slick, if you sick, then I got the cure

Chrome spinnin, we winnin Boo, check the score

Filthy rich, I like to dress like I'm four

Have the chicks fightin like the next World War

Sure, yo you never treat em like a whore

Like Jay said, "Love it or hate it, eith-er or"

Chorus

[Timbaland]

Uhh, what, uh huh

What, like that, what

Timbaland, what

Mad Skillz, uhh

Collabo', what

Don't go, baby

Don't go, baby baby

Don't go

Chorus (w/o Timbaland)

(Go ahead) 2X

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