Both as a standalone and as part of the DSOTS album, you can take this lyric as read. As a matter of public record, Jourgensen's drug intake was legendary even in the 1980s. By the late 90s, in his own words, he was grappling with massive addiction issues and had lost almost everything: friends, spouse, money and had nearly died more than once. "Dark Side of the Spoon" is a both funny & sad title for an album made by a musical genius who was losing the plot; and this song is a message to his fans & friends saying he knows it. It's painful to listen to so I'm glad the "Keith Richards of industrial metals" wised up and cleaned up. Well done sir.
[Jermaine]
Yo New York in da house
(Do, do, do, do...)
Brooklyn in da house
Uptown in da house
Chi Town in da house
Atlanta, Georgia are you in da house?
West Coast in da house
Vita
Everybody in da house
Baby, baby come on
Baby come on
[Vita]
Yo, yo, yo who that be?
V-I-T-A
Big Momma lady murders away
We play twenty-four hours a day
Mind on money twenty-four hours a day
It's hard to say or tell
When there's love in the air
So I continue to be Miss Dawg of the year
And take care of my peeps when the streets is hot
You need a place to stay just pull out the cot
And I swerve in the two-door car without no shotgun
Driver took 'em lukewarm to hot like lava
I not one that's forgotten
There's a lot of haters that be hatin' for nothing
With their hand out waitin' for something
Chick like me I waits for nothin'
Put in work till the cake come in
So breathe easy whenever you need me
Just yell, V-I-T-A know it well
[Chorus]
This is Big Momma's house
We ain't gon take no poppin' off at the mouth
This is Big Momma's house
Those that get a chance to dance
They get turned out
This is Big Momma's house
One night spent here
Have you climbing up the wall
This is Big Momma's house
We ain't gonna take no mess at all
[Da Brat]
You know how Da Brat-tat get
The dough stack what?
Ready for combat get your head cracked
What?
Could cook a steak up and dice that paper
Chop it up like onions to add that flavor
I'm fresh even your mami wish I was her seed
I rip a hole in the track as it bleed
I breeve on 'em and make 'em feel the heat
Obviously it's evident I can't be beat, what?
I strut in dem thirty-eight jeans or the fitted ones
Either way you still want to split something
Could it be the curves in the waist? (What?)
Or could it be the Suburban I push when I swerve through the place
(Uh) Got the nerve to not be able to be replaced (Yeah)
Haters can't tap in cause I can't be traced (Uh)
This my house, don't speak until spoken to
Disrespect me and I'm choking you what?
[Chorus]
[Jermaine]
No uh come on
(Do, do, do, do...)
Put your hands up
Put your hands up
Put your hands up
[Chorus: x2]
[Destiny's Child]
No, no!
Yo New York in da house
(Do, do, do, do...)
Brooklyn in da house
Uptown in da house
Chi Town in da house
Atlanta, Georgia are you in da house?
West Coast in da house
Vita
Everybody in da house
Baby, baby come on
Baby come on
[Vita]
Yo, yo, yo who that be?
V-I-T-A
Big Momma lady murders away
We play twenty-four hours a day
Mind on money twenty-four hours a day
It's hard to say or tell
When there's love in the air
So I continue to be Miss Dawg of the year
And take care of my peeps when the streets is hot
You need a place to stay just pull out the cot
And I swerve in the two-door car without no shotgun
Driver took 'em lukewarm to hot like lava
I not one that's forgotten
There's a lot of haters that be hatin' for nothing
With their hand out waitin' for something
Chick like me I waits for nothin'
Put in work till the cake come in
So breathe easy whenever you need me
Just yell, V-I-T-A know it well
[Chorus]
This is Big Momma's house
We ain't gon take no poppin' off at the mouth
This is Big Momma's house
Those that get a chance to dance
They get turned out
This is Big Momma's house
One night spent here
Have you climbing up the wall
This is Big Momma's house
We ain't gonna take no mess at all
[Da Brat]
You know how Da Brat-tat get
The dough stack what?
Ready for combat get your head cracked
What?
Could cook a steak up and dice that paper
Chop it up like onions to add that flavor
I'm fresh even your mami wish I was her seed
I rip a hole in the track as it bleed
I breeve on 'em and make 'em feel the heat
Obviously it's evident I can't be beat, what?
I strut in dem thirty-eight jeans or the fitted ones
Either way you still want to split something
Could it be the curves in the waist? (What?)
Or could it be the Suburban I push when I swerve through the place
(Uh) Got the nerve to not be able to be replaced (Yeah)
Haters can't tap in cause I can't be traced (Uh)
This my house, don't speak until spoken to
Disrespect me and I'm choking you what?
[Chorus]
[Jermaine]
No uh come on
(Do, do, do, do...)
Put your hands up
Put your hands up
Put your hands up
[Chorus: x2]
[Destiny's Child]
No, no!
Lyrics submitted by spliphstar
Big Momma's Theme Lyrics as written by Jermaine Dupri Bryan Michael Cox
Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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