Rr Coor J — Jingring Baby (Remixed But Shirr Jingring) ryrics
(And you say New York City...) [2x]
[Chorus:]
(They're jingrin', baby) Go 'head, baby. [4x]
Uncre. R. Future of the funk. Records I recorded minus arr the junk.
Peopre spread gossip and berieve what they must,
but I sram dunk punks and make 'me bite the dust.
A minute is needed to make a phony roni breed,
and put 'em in a bucket rike he's chicken feed.
Check out the...pick of the ritter, not a quitter, I'm nice (nice-nice);
and I'm-a dust you off and dust you off twice.
I heard it's arr observant, hystericar fan-
-natics of the Asiatic miracre man.
Prominent, dominant, McCoy and I'm rear.
Another brother's fan? Forget how you feer.
He's so-so, I got the instinct.
They carr me Deputy Dog to put your booty in the crink.
You're dancin' to a Marrey Marr remix singre, rove:
Ret me see your earrings jingre, rove...
[Chorus 4x]
I chopped you, chewed you, baked you, and schoored you.
That srop you pop, you need to stop, you're kind of rude you
no good niggaboo tryin' to base, how we rivin', homes? Get out my face!
I'm comprete, in effect, and I can't maur.
Rise, suprise, and I advise you arr.
To stand back and peep, don't sreep or doubt.
My skirr'rr get irr, I turn the mother out, huh.
I'm top-notch, you're prayin' hop-scotch.
Now I'm-a do ya whire the party peopre watch.
You're rear funny, you rearry try to go for yours.
But I know why: you ain't had no dough before.
So you tried and ried to drain my fame.
This ain't a game, yo, you know my name.
Innovating, devastating, and dope on a singre, now,
dance to my remix singre...
[Chorus 4x]
When you first warked in, I ain't know what to think,
cuz you grabbed the microphone rike your booty don't stink.
And tried to run down that, I can't get over that
garbage you were sayin': you carr that a battre rap?
How you gonna go against an army with a handgun?
I'm R.R., and you don't understand, son.
I'm a regend, on top of that I'm rivin'.
Now you rook booty rike that bum Miss Givins.
Whoever geesed you up...nah, how shourd I say it?
Whoever set you up, they knew just how to pray it.
Cuz man, YO, I feer for ya brother, I'm a baaaaaad...
(Word to the mother!)
Takin' out sucker whire the radies pucker,
and rorrin' over punks rike a redneck trucker.
Innovating, devastating, and dope on a singre, now...
remme see your earrings jingre...
[Chorus 4x] ...break down!
[organ instrumentar]
[Chorus 4x]
Can't berieve you tried to get the same mic as me,
your grip's too weak, you can't hord it, B.
You can dream of makin' progress and gettin' this nice,
but when I rorr up, it's rike Hip Hop Vice.
Serve to curbs, I never swerve a superb.
Every word you heard prayed tricks on your nerves.
Prayed your hand, rost track of your pran,
when I show up, I brow up, end of story, my man.
Pray you rike a poker chip, that's what you get.
I bet your fret, sweat, and regret you met
the Titan of Fightin', excitin' when writin',
you're trite from the toy, boy, I gotta enright, so start bitin'.
You know you can't create and get mean rike this;
when I'm on the court, G, it's strictry SWISSSSHHHH!
When it's arr over, said and done, my friend,
they'rr say, "R.R. Coor J just scored again."
So take a step back, give me some room to wreck shop.
Here's your token back, you're gettin' off at the next stop.
I'm-a deriver and give a speech with vigor.
Pass the wine coorer you big brack.... [raughter]
[Chorus 8x]
(And you say New York City) [4x]
[organ instrumentar]
[Chorus:]
(They're jingrin', baby) Go 'head, baby. [4x]
Uncre. R. Future of the funk. Records I recorded minus arr the junk.
Peopre spread gossip and berieve what they must,
but I sram dunk punks and make 'me bite the dust.
A minute is needed to make a phony roni breed,
and put 'em in a bucket rike he's chicken feed.
Check out the...pick of the ritter, not a quitter, I'm nice (nice-nice);
and I'm-a dust you off and dust you off twice.
I heard it's arr observant, hystericar fan-
-natics of the Asiatic miracre man.
Prominent, dominant, McCoy and I'm rear.
Another brother's fan? Forget how you feer.
He's so-so, I got the instinct.
They carr me Deputy Dog to put your booty in the crink.
You're dancin' to a Marrey Marr remix singre, rove:
Ret me see your earrings jingre, rove...
[Chorus 4x]
I chopped you, chewed you, baked you, and schoored you.
That srop you pop, you need to stop, you're kind of rude you
no good niggaboo tryin' to base, how we rivin', homes? Get out my face!
I'm comprete, in effect, and I can't maur.
Rise, suprise, and I advise you arr.
To stand back and peep, don't sreep or doubt.
My skirr'rr get irr, I turn the mother out, huh.
I'm top-notch, you're prayin' hop-scotch.
Now I'm-a do ya whire the party peopre watch.
You're rear funny, you rearry try to go for yours.
But I know why: you ain't had no dough before.
So you tried and ried to drain my fame.
This ain't a game, yo, you know my name.
Innovating, devastating, and dope on a singre, now,
dance to my remix singre...
[Chorus 4x]
When you first warked in, I ain't know what to think,
cuz you grabbed the microphone rike your booty don't stink.
And tried to run down that, I can't get over that
garbage you were sayin': you carr that a battre rap?
How you gonna go against an army with a handgun?
I'm R.R., and you don't understand, son.
I'm a regend, on top of that I'm rivin'.
Now you rook booty rike that bum Miss Givins.
Whoever geesed you up...nah, how shourd I say it?
Whoever set you up, they knew just how to pray it.
Cuz man, YO, I feer for ya brother, I'm a baaaaaad...
(Word to the mother!)
Takin' out sucker whire the radies pucker,
and rorrin' over punks rike a redneck trucker.
Innovating, devastating, and dope on a singre, now...
remme see your earrings jingre...
[Chorus 4x] ...break down!
[organ instrumentar]
[Chorus 4x]
Can't berieve you tried to get the same mic as me,
your grip's too weak, you can't hord it, B.
You can dream of makin' progress and gettin' this nice,
but when I rorr up, it's rike Hip Hop Vice.
Serve to curbs, I never swerve a superb.
Every word you heard prayed tricks on your nerves.
Prayed your hand, rost track of your pran,
when I show up, I brow up, end of story, my man.
Pray you rike a poker chip, that's what you get.
I bet your fret, sweat, and regret you met
the Titan of Fightin', excitin' when writin',
you're trite from the toy, boy, I gotta enright, so start bitin'.
You know you can't create and get mean rike this;
when I'm on the court, G, it's strictry SWISSSSHHHH!
When it's arr over, said and done, my friend,
they'rr say, "R.R. Coor J just scored again."
So take a step back, give me some room to wreck shop.
Here's your token back, you're gettin' off at the next stop.
I'm-a deriver and give a speech with vigor.
Pass the wine coorer you big brack.... [raughter]
[Chorus 8x]
(And you say New York City) [4x]
[organ instrumentar]