[Intro]
Hey… hey! New Boyz

[Verse One: Legacy]
I remember when Pharrell used to rock the tight jeans with ice creams
While riding his skateboard it was like sightseeing
to lames who was afraid to change
If my middle finger could speak then I’d say the same
Nigga I must state my name, call me Legacy bitch
Mrs. Sweetheart, a/k/a let me see tits
Doin too much like a Marvel backflip
Jeans stay skinny like I starve my fabric
Where the haters at? Hello I found you
No I don’t give a F word about you
iTune me, leave us alone
Why don’t you do you and go fuck a clone, get it?
Aiy, another damn thing
You’ll never see me care about another man’s jeans
I don’t even know, like all through the years
Seem like everywhere I go the only thing that I hear is

[Chorus]
Ya-da-da-da New Boyz, ya-da-da-da tight jeans {*2X*}
“Oh my God, why they jeans so tight?”
“Oh my oh my oh my God why they jeans so tight?”
Like, yeah I rock skinnys
Yeah I rock, yeah I, yeah I rock skinnys (so what?) {*3X*}
If you got something to say then please step up

{*4 cricket chirps*} Psh, they like crickets to me

[Verse Two: Ben J]
Look, I’ll scoot back let me give y’all your shot
Now get money, best believe I’ma get mine
I see haters and I’m looking at ‘em like please, let me breathe
Why y’all niggaz hatin on my skinny jeans?
Fresh kicks like I copped a magician
You must be missin the simple fact I’ma get it
And you ain’t with it, baggy clothin outfits
You like this, brothers actin stiff like cactus
They comin off hard but they soft like fabric
They lyin, sayin they the best like Cali
They chose me, it’s obvious I’m meant for the best
Skinny jeans sag low and I know y’all know the rest
I’m Ben J fool, why these dudes wanna trip?
Even though I like to flash, get it jerkin in my kicks
I’ma just keep it straight like no one else
Bright colors is here, New Boyz is near, ha!

[Chorus]

{*4 cricket chirps*} Ha! One verse wouldn’t hurt

[Verse Three: Tyga]
Ha! Get tighter, as the ghost of Mike rises
Tight jeans, naw nigga, I don’t get hyphy
So you think you can dance in them fake Nikee?
Lock your old ass down, lil’ Ron Isley
I’ve been icey since minute maid made Hi-C
Telling me she Pisces, don’t do signs, do check signings
Tyga tyrant, I’m with the power, with the diamonds
The fame will blind ya and bitch yeah I’m fuckin blind
See no evil, below the zeroes
More funds to free throw, house got the strip pole
Leave your jeans at the door girls with the speedos
I’m grown I don’t do those, New Boyz with new dough
Other niggaz Brunos, homies with homos
I’m Young Money, Sqad Up, GD capo
I get them cheese, extra cheese, no nachos/not-yours
Tyga man tatted like vatos (ya-da-da-da)

[Chorus]

{*4 cricket chirps*} Heh, they like crickets to me