Foxy Brown

If I...


Ill Na Na, 3m 42sec

If I...
  • If I...


Foxy Brown

Uh, c'mon, yeah.
Brooklyn, Brooklyn, take it back, take it back.
If I... Fox boogie, ragtop, six drop,
Get caught, think not, light Brown,
'Cause we're not to be stopped.
If I...

I came up fast in this crap game they call a rap game.
What the damn, she's killin it again from that dame.
Now every snake, fake-faced, o' jig;
I'm like, just don't sell me the bridge, I buy lakes.
Friends even bend rules, chicks I lent jewels,
Says, "She's actin' funny now, oh, she's got money now."
Tryin' to do my thing, y'all, need you on my team,
But you ain't gon' stop my dream, or block my cream.
I liked things better when you called me Ings,
A year before Rap City, way before Screen Scene.
'Fore they knew who Foxy was, you probably was
The first to keep it real, wit' all my secrets concealed.
Things got ill the minute I got a deal,
And my time got shorter, and you was havin' a daughter.
Had to stop hopscotch, get off, I ran;
Damn, I wish we were still playin' jump.

If I could take this back, I would.
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good,
I would take it back to when we said good-bye.
If I...
If I could take this back, I would.
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good,
I would take it back to when we said good-bye.
If I...

My so-called man thinkin' he slick 'cause I stay on tour;
Thought he'd never get caught tryin' to play on whores.
I cried, as my keys was scrapin' the car doors,
From the trunk to the hood, by the wheel and the floor.
Exposed my vulnerable side, had me open wide,
Said you forever keep it real, but you lied.
Was the first to feel inside, the Ill Na Na
Had me thirst when you whispered to me, "How it feel mama?"
Yeah, but don't hurt it, I like the way you work it.
No Diggity, don't stop, get busy.
Blew up your pager, checked your clothes,
Duked your house keys, stole your beeper code.
What happened to the Mo's and the occasional roses,
Massages and the bubble baths, rubbin' my toes?
As I realize you was just misleadin' me,
I shoulda known, you left your last chick to be with me.


Mommy dearest tried to prepare us for a lot ahead.
You never heard, preferred to smoke your lie instead.
On the one to one combo, told me you'd die for bread;
That's why I spend these nights, cryin' in the bed.
You had the deep dish six, your rep was widespread.
I tried to intervene, you said it was over my head,
Said I'd never understand the plight of a black man.
Right, but I'm tryin' to keep you in my life,
V.I.A. satellite, talkin' them burn outs.
Soon you had me wilin' and you turned me out,
Taught me 'bout how to win, the code of the streets.
Luxuries and wealth untold, it was sweet.
And one night you asleep after work, was chopped up,
Felt somethin' strange in my veins, I popped up.
One foot in the house, shoot flew to the horn,
Got the cell operator, I knew you was gone.


Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, JELLYBEAN MUSIC GROUP, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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