» » »

Hey mama (non-video) Lyrics

Hey mama (non-video) by Black Eyed Peas  

CD  ·  DVD  ·  Sheet music


Hey mama (non-video) La la la la la...

Hey mama
This that shit that make you groove mama
Get on the floor and move your booty mama
We the Blast Masters blastin' up the jamma(fade)
~REEEWIIIIND~

Cutie, cutie, make sure you move your booty
Shake that thing ,and now, the City of Sin and,
Hey shorty, I know you wanna party and
The way your body look it make me really feel naughty

Cutie, cutie, make sure you move your booty
Shake that thing ,and now, the City of Sin and,
Hey shorty, I know you wanna party and
The way your body look it make me really feel naughty

I got a naughty, naughty style and a naughty, naughty crew
But I everything I do, I do just for you
I'm a little bit of old, and a bigger bit of new
The true niggas know that the Peas come through
And never cease (NOo..)
We never die no we never decease(NOo..)
We multiply like we mathmatice,
And then drop bombs like we in the middle east
(the bomb-bommas, the bass boom-drummas)

Now y'all know, who we are
Y'all know, we the stars
Steady rockin' hard on y'all's boulevards
And lookin' hard without body guards
I do, what I can
Double-U, L. I am
And still I stand, with still mic in hand
So come on mama, dance to the drumma

Hey mama
This that shit that make you groove mama
Get on the floor and move your booty mama
We the Blast Masters blastin' up the jamma
So shake your bumbumma c'mon now mama

This that shit that make you groove mama
Get on the floor and move your booty mama
We the Blast Masters blastin' up the jamma
So shake your bumbumma c'mon now mama

La la la la la

We the big town-stompas and big sound-pumpas,
The beat bump-bumps all in your trunk-trunkas,
The girlies in the club got the plump-lump-blumpas,
And when I'm makin' love then my hip hump-humps,
And never quits (NOo..)
No need to carry nine millimeter clips (NOo..)
Don't wanna squeeze trigger
Just wanna squeeze tits (lubba-lubba)
'Cause we the show-stoppas
And the Chief-rockas, #1 chief-rockas

Now y'all know, who we are
Y'all know, we the stars
Steady rockin' hard on y'all's boulevards
How we rockin' it girl? Without body guards
She be, Fergie
From the crew, B.E.P.
C'mon take heed, as we take the lead
So come on bubba, dance to the drumma

Hey mama
This that shit that make you groove mama
Get on the floor and move your booty mama
We the Blast Masters blastin' up the jamma (NOo..NOo..)

Cutie, cutie, make sure you move your booty
Shake that thing ,and now, the City of Sin and,
Hey shorty, I know you wanna party and
The way your body look it make me really feel naughty

But the race is not for the Swiss,
But for who can insure it
And Tippa Irie and the Black eyed Peas will be there...
Til infinity, Til infinity, Til infinity, Til infinity, Til infinity,
Black all out...

Nosa dima shock, Nosa Dima thing
Everything I sing them, appear bling-bling
Oh what a thing, hear mackalin,
Grinding and Winding
And the madda they be movin' a perfect timing
and they dance and dance to the dance all redeem
And the way that you dance, its finger-lickin'
Like rice and peas and chicken stuffing

Hey mama
This that shit that make you groove mama
Get on the floor and move your booty mama
We the Blast Masters blastin' up the jamma
So shake your bumbumma c'mon now mama

This that shit that make you groove mama
Get on the floor and move your booty mama
We the Blast Masters blastin' up the jamma
So shake your bumbumma c'mon now mama
La la la la la...



CD  ·  DVD  ·  Sheet music
Comments

comments powered by Disqus