Let's get it hype, nigga Let's get it crump Yeah, yeah, yeah Pass me them Swisher sweets, let's get it crump If a nigga disrespect me, I'mma prove my shit and dump Blast rhymes like I pump, turn your belly to jelly Veteran M.C., I don't think you rookies is ready Three hundred and fifty pounds of pressure to deal with I run with Suave, always packin' somethin' to kill with Feel this bitch, when I get rich, I'mma still hustle Go down in history, paper taller then Bill Russel Kilo flows, I got 'em hid in the basement Choppin' boys up, on some puttin' it in they face shit Eight ball, F A T M A C K, known for layin' it down And doin' shit the playa way Callabo's of the dough ain't no secret Space-age pimpin' means, I don't do free shit Time waits for no one, it ain't gon wait for me Yours truly, signed Eightball and M.J.G. All my hard core niggas, what you wanna do? My real thug-ass niggas, what you wanna do? All my money makin' bitches, if you ride with me I'mma pimp 'till I die and I'mma ride for free Now where them real bitches at? Where them real bitches at? Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh? And where my buck niggas at? Where my buck niggas at? Where they at, where they at, where they at? Come on I ain't new to this, damn nice, bitch, that's true to this Money ain't never been a thing to me Always stack my dough, holla back Ass fat, thighs thick, titties perfect Inhale the cheese, from here to Tel Aviv Y'all know it, shit, I don't bluff and no dough I don't fuck 'em, fuck I'mma fake for Make mine's, I'mma take yours 'Cuz I'm no nigga like love b'fore Make bitch scream like, gimme some more If a nigga broke, what'd you fuck him for? Waste of time It's like we playette minds Don't stop, get it get it Bitches, take it from a real motherfuckin' pro Y'all get that dough, we don't trust these niggas They gon' pimp if you let them From N.Y. to the Dirty South And them bitches' dime tight I got my mind right And my ice got the shine right And if it don't blind bitches When them lights hit the wrist You won't be stickin' shit, you be lickin' this All my hard core niggas, what you wanna do? My real thug-ass niggas, what you wanna do? All my money makin' bitches, if you ride with me I'mma pimp 'till I die and I'mma ride for free Now where them real bitches at? Where them real bitches at? Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh? And where my buck niggas at? Where my buck niggas at? Where they at, where they at, where they at? Come on I'm the pimp motherfucker, baby Ice cold, stories so high, I pimp the whole village twice So tight fold crease right on the President's nose Pimp clothes, drinkin' straight henney' and buckstrum Touch toed, hoes take a centerfold pose Break a treat, make 'em pay to enter those pros, slam those Game tied tight like bows, we never close Three-sixty-five, twenty-four Hand chose bitches a L.A. mode, gettin' sold Plus a load of killer, as chronic gettin' blowed Keep it froze, tucked up in a Tupperware bowl Stick of gold, somethin' from the school of the old Forever flows, I take it down as deep as it can go Burn rolls, braids tight, blazed afros, we're pushin' hoes Dicks get erect like poles, pay the toll M.J.G. is in control All my hard core niggas, what you wanna do? My real thug-ass niggas, what you wanna do? All my money makin' bitches, if you ride with me I'mma pimp 'till I die and I'mma ride for free Now where them real bitches at? Where them real bitches at? Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh? And where my buck niggas at? Where my buck niggas at? Where they at, where they at, where they at? Come on Peep dis', you and them boys need to slow down Up in the mornin' in the court, it's 'bout to go down There's no remorse now, better expose rounds Them jackets be on the lose until' the dope is found Juvenile's my name, bitch I represent it to the end, the same, shit Niggers don't be wearin' suits on theses blocks All you see is your boys and Reeboks A thin hat to the back with a strap too Willin' to bust a nigga ass if he had to If you feel the same my nigger, you's a hot boy Blocka, blocka, blocka, better get up off the block, boy Call for the cops, boy, your mommy or pops, boy Cash wasn't a million, never hit the spot, boy You want props, ha, you sold to the cops, ha You in a cell block, ha, 'cuz you too hot, ha All my hard core niggas, what you wanna do? My real thug-ass niggas, what you wanna do? All my money makin' bitches, if you ride with me I'mma pimp 'till I die and I'mma ride for free Now where them real bitches at? Where them real bitches at? Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh? And where my buck niggas at? Where my buck niggas at? Where they at, where they at, where they at? Come on Where the real one's at, bitch? Oh, you know how we feel About all you wanna be ass ghetto superstars Wanna be like, "Me ass" niggas Tryin' to be like Foxy Brown bitches I give a fuck about your intermureal status, mothafucka You ain't nobody We been doin' this, been doin' this shit We go way back with this, baby Talkin' about this real shit on the muthafuckin' microphone Pimps and hoes and gettin' money Tricks and hoes and fuckin' Muthafuckin' clothes and shit ridin' vogues and shit Nigga ridin' on 20's and shit Nigga whatchu got? Brand new-assed nigga You don't know nothin' about this game Come on All my hard core niggas, what you wanna do? My real thug-ass niggas, what you wanna do? All my money makin' bitches, if you ride with me I'mma pimp 'till I die and I'mma ride for free Now where them real bitches at? Where them real bitches at? Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh? And where my buck niggas at? Where my buck niggas at? Where they at, where they at, where they at? Where my bitches at? All my hard core niggas, what you wanna do? My real thug-ass niggas, what you wanna do? © BMG SONGS, INC.; PORK MUSIC INC; Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com