What's The 411? - Mary J Blige

[Chorus]
What's the 411, hun?
What's the 411, hun?
I got it goin' on, hun
A yo, I got it goin on, hun
What's the 411, hun?
What's the 411, hun?
I got it goin' on
A yo, I got it goin' on, hun

Well, I be Puba on this here
The nigga from last year
Girbaud's hanging baggy
Tommy Hilfiger top gear
Take no shorts
I'm doin' lovely in all sports
Even swing the pole at the hole on my golf course
Some say I'm fancy
Cause I'm horny and nasty
If I see some rugged joint
Then I won't let it pass me
I take no shorts
let suckers step up and see
I'll flip the script and get harder than Jepordy
I shot the sheriff and the motherfuckin' deputy
Test me
Check it
I'm not Keith Sweat but bet that ass
That I can make it last
Skinz turn they head so fast
They end up catching whip lash
If hun's a monster
I'm Carl Lewis on a meter dash
It's Grand Puba baby
And I'm gettin' crazy cash
What's the 411? Let me know, hun
What's the 411?

[Chorus]

Yeah, nig, what makes you different from the next nigga
Seen you last week
And you couldn't even speak
You try to play like Mr. All-of-that
But now you want to come to me with some chit-chat
I don't have no time for no wham-bam thank you, ma'am
Ghas me up, get me drunk and hit the the skinz and scram
The same ol' shit you pulled last week on Pam
I'm not havin' that, No I'm not havin' that
You gotta do a lot more and that's just how it be
I'm Mary Blige and you just ain't runnin' up in me
I need a man who's lookin' out with some security
So come correct with some respect and then we will see
So if you with it, the drop the 7 digits
And I might just give you a call
If you ain't with it, then don't waste you time at all
So what's the 411, hun?