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(feat. Kat Williams (Money Mike), Suga Free) |
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(Kat Williams) |
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Ladies and gentlemen, this is your friendly |
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Pimp representative, Kat Williams, A.K.A. Money Mother****in' Mike |
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Please do not get the game crossed up |
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In order for you not to get tossed up |
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Whether or not you are flossed up |
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It is necessary in every pimp's life |
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To get bossed |
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(Suga Free - Verse 1) |
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Hey, Suga Free |
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Why Roxy jockin' |
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Probably cause she don't want you to know she got |
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Caught watching a parrot **** a carrot off some of that oxy |
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She said one time at band camp, she was a rat |
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And go girl scout cookies lined flat on her back |
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One day, I was in the middle of some suck-n-duckin' |
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Got tired of throwin' my head up at this trick |
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Bossed up like it was nothin' |
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I met her off the Blue Sky, I truly never knew why |
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But yet, the pimpin' in that whore, she loves it, cause I'm too fly |
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(Chorus: Suga Free & Kat Williams) |
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Cause I'm the only kind of man that she'll ever understood |
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Because that's what the pimpin's there for |
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She sweared a deal with a mack that keep her flat on her back |
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Because it's that's what the pimpin's there for |
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(Verse 2) |
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Can you believe this? |
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First thing, flat on her mouth, talkin' about |
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I would've told, "Bitch, you wouldn't told a nigga shit!" |
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You know you love her up |
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Actin' like it's hard G-14 classified |
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Man, all that bullshit should cover up |
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Holy Nickelodeon... |
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You wouldn't believe that this bitch used to be a ****in' historian... |
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But that's what they get for love and shit |
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Sincerly yours, Suga Free |
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And thank you for nothin' |
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(Repeat Chorus Twice) |
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(Pre-Verse: Baby Bash) |
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Sippin' on that good bombay |
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Rating these rat chicken traps all day |
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Spittin' real butter, stay away from parkay |
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Ask me what I do, man, I pimp and parle |
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(Baby Bash - Verse 3) |
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What's really, though |
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I wouldn't care if she smoke dope, shot rope |
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Or chased a billy goat (Billy goat?) |
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But you don't hear me, though |
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Pain and rent, you need to pray and repent |
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She might be ya girlfriend, yeah, but she my tramp |
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And I ain't payin' respect, I'm just takin' a checks |
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And beat the shit, out of buff niggas, fakin' a flex |
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We keep it A.O.B. |
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All on, baby |
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Y'all pay for puss, mayne, y'all so crazy |
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You trick harder than the NBA |
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And got mad when your weeds got send my way |
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Cause you in love with yourself, and she in love with your wealth |
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And wonderin', why she still ****in' everyone else |
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Cause she ain't got no manners, or self esteem |
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If I wish the right records, I could sell her a dream |
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And y'all still poppin' collars, I'm a dust my kicks |
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Why y'all still go to clubs and handcuff your chicks |
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(Repeat Chorus Twice) |
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(Suga Free) I better boss up |
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(Chingo Bling) Vieja |
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Go bring me some Church N' Chickens |
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Jalepeno on the side |
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(Suga Free) I better boss up |
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(Chingo Bling) You look |
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You don't know me |
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Until you blow me |
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Suck it! |
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(Suga Free) I better boss up |
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(Chingo Bling) Don't be a guy that puts crema and cacahuates in his bolas |
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For his dog to lick |
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(Suga Free) I better boss up |
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(Chingo Bling) Hey, Bash |
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Call Fred Wreck |
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Tell 'em 'bout the time he put that chick in the scissors, wey |
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(Verse 4) |
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I once put a chick in a guillotine choke |
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Made her steal some new shoes and get me some dough |
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And this ain't no studio shit |
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How you think them ugly cats get a beautiful bitch |
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And I just call 'em how I see 'em |
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From A.M. to the P.M. |
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It's Young Baby Bash from a hustle Mus-l-i-m |
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I spit caps |
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I spit caps |
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And send a hoe, to the track, in Iraq |
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(Repeat Chorus Four Times) |
