Pimpin' Ain't No Illusion Lyrics
| Song | Pimpin' Ain't No Illusion |
| Artist | UGK |
| Album | Dirty Money |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Butler, Fleming, Freeman, Shaw | |
| [Pimp C:] (Uh, Uh) | |
| One time for yo' muthafuckin'...(whuut) | |
| Back, bitch (uh)... | |
| Kool Ace (whuut), | |
| UGK...(huh) [Chorus: Pimp C] | |
| Pimpin' ain't no illusion, | |
| And pimpin' ain't never died. | |
| Mo' pimps was on that heroin | |
| And yo' pimp tripped out on that fry. | |
| The dikes done came through | |
| And straight threw off all the game; | |
| Got all these hoes thinkin' | |
| They could manage they own change. [Kool Ace:] | |
| But it ain't no illusion, | |
| I know...you all have witnessed | |
| He rollin' in my | |
| Caady mo' | |
| Wit' fly bitches, | |
| Makin' ole deals: | |
| Now, ho (huh, huh) | |
| Ain't Bob | |
| Barker But | |
| I'm caught up in this game | |
| Mo' like... | |
| Peter Parker. | |
| P-I-M-P, take the | |
| P's that I am. | |
| I want you payin' hoes in my army | |
| Like...uh... | |
| Uncle Sam, | |
| And we gon' jam... | |
| I'm talkin' 'bout the world greatest show | |
| I know my shit is extreme | |
| But I'm all about them does. | |
| When I'm steppin' on the scene | |
| Be there four deep...hella clan | |
| My reality is your favorite dream (Stop that shit, daddy...) | |
| Best believe | |
| Kool Ace gon' keep it real. | |
| Pimp C & Bun | |
| B to testify for the ear | |
| Excuse me, y'all, but this about | |
| Southern shit. | |
| Now, tell me can you...uh...feel this, bitch? | |
| We givin' 'em brain contusions... | |
| Pimp C, what's the conclusion? [Pimp C:] | |
| Pimpin' ain't no illusion... [Chorus: x2] [Pimp C:] | |
| Pimpin' ain't dead...nigga, it just began (How the fuck you know Sweet Jones?) | |
| My hoes still out there sellin' ass. | |
| Yo' bitch is out of pocket, ' | |
| Cause yo' pimpin' was scary; | |
| Real hoes gon' front on a simp | |
| But she gon' do it for daddy. | |
| Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie; | |
| But, boy, my bitches know the difference | |
| Between real pimpin' and movies | |
| It's the difference between real leather | |
| And that shit at yo' house. | |
| I don't know what y'all doin' up there, | |
| But we really pimpin' in the | |
| South. Every since | |
| I was 17, | |
| I been stackin' my green: | |
| Went for servin' rocks to fiends, | |
| And rockin' club full a teens. | |
| Went from bumpin' | |
| Screw in Houston, | |
| Sippin' promythazine, | |
| To ridin' in a 8 600 with sheath, | |
| To smokin' on sticky green. | |
| I'm still | |
| Pimp C, bitch | |
| I'm claimin' | |
| P.A., they hate us; | |
| But, me and | |
| Kool Ace rollin' a | |
| Lexus Sittin' on all gold | |
| Daytons. Bitch, take a look around | |
| Those hoes steady choosin'. | |
| This is the conclusion: pimpin' ain't no illusion. [Chorus: x2] | |
| Bun B: If you got any love fo' that broad you wit' | |
| Nigga, move her 'fore you lose her, ' | |
| Cause a beggar ain't a muthafuckin' chooser. | |
| Third leg is a bitch abuser, infamous | |
| In cities where big pimpin' is my hoes clean. | |
| No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis | |
| Come catch a wif a this... | |
| Damn, can't you taste it? | |
| Now yo' money's up in smoke | |
| Like you freebased it. | |
| Now bitch replaced it | |
| Wit' a sexual favor | |
| But don't get mad at real pimpin', nigga | |
| Check yo' behavior...and savor | |
| The aroma from | |
| Promona to | |
| Tacoma; Got my pimpin' diploma for bein' a | |
| Cadillac chromer. | |
| Fuck a Sonoma... | |
| I'm on a mission for | |
| Benzes Knowin' 'xactly where my ends is, ballin' relentless. | |
| And then my friends is | |
| Slappin' niggas with glass chins | |
| It's funny...sendin' tricks home | |
| Broke and defenseless; and, ever since this | |
| Boy been pimpin' the pen, | |
| I promise never to ever leave home | |
| Without my pimpin' again...that's why... [Chorus: x2] [Too $hort:] | |
| You know, | |
| I got to tell you players what | |
| I'm talkin' about: | |
| My bitch got bold opened a bank account. | |
| When I found the bitch checkbook, | |
| I didn't get mad ' | |
| Cause there was no doubt that | |
| I be gettin' the cash. | |
| I broke it down to her, | |
| She gave me the dough; | |
| Do you remember what you was | |
| Before I made you a ho? | |
| You was a broke bitch, | |
| You couldn't even smoke shit, | |
| Couldn't stay fo-cused, | |
| And, don't forget it, bitch... | |
| Yo' whole life changed the day you met me. | |
| Now you think you need a bank account, | |
| Baby, I can't see | |
| You managin' this money...it's too much. | |
| All you do is look good... | |
| And then you fuck. | |
| Git my money, git yo' money | |
| It's all the same. | |
| The shit ain't even funny when you talk about this game. | |
| They call me | |
| Too $hort, baby | |
| I'm still in it. | |
| Ain't no camouflage, nuttin' but this real pimpin'...beeyatch. [Chorus: x3] ...pimpin' ain't no illusion |
| zuo qu : Butler, Fleming, Freeman, Shaw | |
| Pimp C: Uh, Uh | |
| One time for yo' muthafuckin'... whuut | |
| Back, bitch uh... | |
| Kool Ace whuut, | |
| UGK... huh Chorus: Pimp C | |
| Pimpin' ain' t no illusion, | |
| And pimpin' ain' t never died. | |
| Mo' pimps was on that heroin | |
| And yo' pimp tripped out on that fry. | |
| The dikes done came through | |
| And straight threw off all the game | |
| Got all these hoes thinkin' | |
| They could manage they own change. Kool Ace: | |
| But it ain' t no illusion, | |
| I know... you all have witnessed | |
| He rollin' in my | |
| Caady mo' | |
| Wit' fly bitches, | |
| Makin' ole deals: | |
| Now, ho huh, huh | |
| Ain' t Bob | |
| Barker But | |
| I' m caught up in this game | |
| Mo' like... | |
| Peter Parker. | |
| PIMP, take the | |
| P' s that I am. | |
| I want you payin' hoes in my army | |
| Like... uh... | |
| Uncle Sam, | |
| And we gon' jam... | |
| I' m talkin' ' bout the world greatest show | |
| I know my shit is extreme | |
| But I' m all about them does. | |
| When I' m steppin' on the scene | |
| Be there four deep... hella clan | |
| My reality is your favorite dream Stop that shit, daddy... | |
| Best believe | |
| Kool Ace gon' keep it real. | |
| Pimp C Bun | |
| B to testify for the ear | |
| Excuse me, y' all, but this about | |
| Southern shit. | |
| Now, tell me can you... uh... feel this, bitch? | |
| We givin' ' em brain contusions... | |
| Pimp C, what' s the conclusion? Pimp C: | |
| Pimpin' ain' t no illusion... Chorus: x2 Pimp C: | |
| Pimpin' ain' t dead... nigga, it just began How the fuck you know Sweet Jones? | |
| My hoes still out there sellin' ass. | |
| Yo' bitch is out of pocket, ' | |
| Cause yo' pimpin' was scary | |
| Real hoes gon' front on a simp | |
| But she gon' do it for daddy. | |
| Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie | |
| But, boy, my bitches know the difference | |
| Between real pimpin' and movies | |
| It' s the difference between real leather | |
| And that shit at yo' house. | |
| I don' t know what y' all doin' up there, | |
| But we really pimpin' in the | |
| South. Every since | |
| I was 17, | |
| I been stackin' my green: | |
| Went for servin' rocks to fiends, | |
| And rockin' club full a teens. | |
| Went from bumpin' | |
| Screw in Houston, | |
| Sippin' promythazine, | |
| To ridin' in a 8 600 with sheath, | |
| To smokin' on sticky green. | |
| I' m still | |
| Pimp C, bitch | |
| I' m claimin' | |
| P. A., they hate us | |
| But, me and | |
| Kool Ace rollin' a | |
| Lexus Sittin' on all gold | |
| Daytons. Bitch, take a look around | |
| Those hoes steady choosin'. | |
| This is the conclusion: pimpin' ain' t no illusion. Chorus: x2 | |
| Bun B: If you got any love fo' that broad you wit' | |
| Nigga, move her ' fore you lose her, ' | |
| Cause a beggar ain' t a muthafuckin' chooser. | |
| Third leg is a bitch abuser, infamous | |
| In cities where big pimpin' is my hoes clean. | |
| No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis | |
| Come catch a wif a this... | |
| Damn, can' t you taste it? | |
| Now yo' money' s up in smoke | |
| Like you freebased it. | |
| Now bitch replaced it | |
| Wit' a sexual favor | |
| But don' t get mad at real pimpin', nigga | |
| Check yo' behavior... and savor | |
| The aroma from | |
| Promona to | |
| Tacoma Got my pimpin' diploma for bein' a | |
| Cadillac chromer. | |
| Fuck a Sonoma... | |
| I' m on a mission for | |
| Benzes Knowin' ' xactly where my ends is, ballin' relentless. | |
| And then my friends is | |
| Slappin' niggas with glass chins | |
| It' s funny... sendin' tricks home | |
| Broke and defenseless and, ever since this | |
| Boy been pimpin' the pen, | |
| I promise never to ever leave home | |
| Without my pimpin' again... that' s why... Chorus: x2 Too hort: | |
| You know, | |
| I got to tell you players what | |
| I' m talkin' about: | |
| My bitch got bold opened a bank account. | |
| When I found the bitch checkbook, | |
| I didn' t get mad ' | |
| Cause there was no doubt that | |
| I be gettin' the cash. | |
| I broke it down to her, | |
| She gave me the dough | |
| Do you remember what you was | |
| Before I made you a ho? | |
| You was a broke bitch, | |
| You couldn' t even smoke shit, | |
| Couldn' t stay focused, | |
| And, don' t forget it, bitch... | |
| Yo' whole life changed the day you met me. | |
| Now you think you need a bank account, | |
| Baby, I can' t see | |
| You managin' this money... it' s too much. | |
| All you do is look good... | |
| And then you fuck. | |
| Git my money, git yo' money | |
| It' s all the same. | |
| The shit ain' t even funny when you talk about this game. | |
| They call me | |
| Too hort, baby | |
| I' m still in it. | |
| Ain' t no camouflage, nuttin' but this real pimpin'... beeyatch. Chorus: x3 ... pimpin' ain' t no illusion |
| zuò qǔ : Butler, Fleming, Freeman, Shaw | |
| Pimp C: Uh, Uh | |
| One time for yo' muthafuckin'... whuut | |
| Back, bitch uh... | |
| Kool Ace whuut, | |
| UGK... huh Chorus: Pimp C | |
| Pimpin' ain' t no illusion, | |
| And pimpin' ain' t never died. | |
| Mo' pimps was on that heroin | |
| And yo' pimp tripped out on that fry. | |
| The dikes done came through | |
| And straight threw off all the game | |
| Got all these hoes thinkin' | |
| They could manage they own change. Kool Ace: | |
| But it ain' t no illusion, | |
| I know... you all have witnessed | |
| He rollin' in my | |
| Caady mo' | |
| Wit' fly bitches, | |
| Makin' ole deals: | |
| Now, ho huh, huh | |
| Ain' t Bob | |
| Barker But | |
| I' m caught up in this game | |
| Mo' like... | |
| Peter Parker. | |
| PIMP, take the | |
| P' s that I am. | |
| I want you payin' hoes in my army | |
| Like... uh... | |
| Uncle Sam, | |
| And we gon' jam... | |
| I' m talkin' ' bout the world greatest show | |
| I know my shit is extreme | |
| But I' m all about them does. | |
| When I' m steppin' on the scene | |
| Be there four deep... hella clan | |
| My reality is your favorite dream Stop that shit, daddy... | |
| Best believe | |
| Kool Ace gon' keep it real. | |
| Pimp C Bun | |
| B to testify for the ear | |
| Excuse me, y' all, but this about | |
| Southern shit. | |
| Now, tell me can you... uh... feel this, bitch? | |
| We givin' ' em brain contusions... | |
| Pimp C, what' s the conclusion? Pimp C: | |
| Pimpin' ain' t no illusion... Chorus: x2 Pimp C: | |
| Pimpin' ain' t dead... nigga, it just began How the fuck you know Sweet Jones? | |
| My hoes still out there sellin' ass. | |
| Yo' bitch is out of pocket, ' | |
| Cause yo' pimpin' was scary | |
| Real hoes gon' front on a simp | |
| But she gon' do it for daddy. | |
| Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie | |
| But, boy, my bitches know the difference | |
| Between real pimpin' and movies | |
| It' s the difference between real leather | |
| And that shit at yo' house. | |
| I don' t know what y' all doin' up there, | |
| But we really pimpin' in the | |
| South. Every since | |
| I was 17, | |
| I been stackin' my green: | |
| Went for servin' rocks to fiends, | |
| And rockin' club full a teens. | |
| Went from bumpin' | |
| Screw in Houston, | |
| Sippin' promythazine, | |
| To ridin' in a 8 600 with sheath, | |
| To smokin' on sticky green. | |
| I' m still | |
| Pimp C, bitch | |
| I' m claimin' | |
| P. A., they hate us | |
| But, me and | |
| Kool Ace rollin' a | |
| Lexus Sittin' on all gold | |
| Daytons. Bitch, take a look around | |
| Those hoes steady choosin'. | |
| This is the conclusion: pimpin' ain' t no illusion. Chorus: x2 | |
| Bun B: If you got any love fo' that broad you wit' | |
| Nigga, move her ' fore you lose her, ' | |
| Cause a beggar ain' t a muthafuckin' chooser. | |
| Third leg is a bitch abuser, infamous | |
| In cities where big pimpin' is my hoes clean. | |
| No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis | |
| Come catch a wif a this... | |
| Damn, can' t you taste it? | |
| Now yo' money' s up in smoke | |
| Like you freebased it. | |
| Now bitch replaced it | |
| Wit' a sexual favor | |
| But don' t get mad at real pimpin', nigga | |
| Check yo' behavior... and savor | |
| The aroma from | |
| Promona to | |
| Tacoma Got my pimpin' diploma for bein' a | |
| Cadillac chromer. | |
| Fuck a Sonoma... | |
| I' m on a mission for | |
| Benzes Knowin' ' xactly where my ends is, ballin' relentless. | |
| And then my friends is | |
| Slappin' niggas with glass chins | |
| It' s funny... sendin' tricks home | |
| Broke and defenseless and, ever since this | |
| Boy been pimpin' the pen, | |
| I promise never to ever leave home | |
| Without my pimpin' again... that' s why... Chorus: x2 Too hort: | |
| You know, | |
| I got to tell you players what | |
| I' m talkin' about: | |
| My bitch got bold opened a bank account. | |
| When I found the bitch checkbook, | |
| I didn' t get mad ' | |
| Cause there was no doubt that | |
| I be gettin' the cash. | |
| I broke it down to her, | |
| She gave me the dough | |
| Do you remember what you was | |
| Before I made you a ho? | |
| You was a broke bitch, | |
| You couldn' t even smoke shit, | |
| Couldn' t stay focused, | |
| And, don' t forget it, bitch... | |
| Yo' whole life changed the day you met me. | |
| Now you think you need a bank account, | |
| Baby, I can' t see | |
| You managin' this money... it' s too much. | |
| All you do is look good... | |
| And then you fuck. | |
| Git my money, git yo' money | |
| It' s all the same. | |
| The shit ain' t even funny when you talk about this game. | |
| They call me | |
| Too hort, baby | |
| I' m still in it. | |
| Ain' t no camouflage, nuttin' but this real pimpin'... beeyatch. Chorus: x3 ... pimpin' ain' t no illusion |
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