Lyrics:
changing your view
I'm speaking history, yes sir, this ain't nothing new
We can't repeat the stupid shit that they're making us do
A lot of times in my
(yeah)
One cop said, Sir, you're under arrest (ha)
I laughed in jest, assumed he was just showing off for his cop friends
Opened some Chex Mix
"Sir
We win, yes sir
We win, yes sir
And we win, yes sir
I believe that
With you by my side, together
We can touch he sky, see we win
We will be
Tell 'em
Well, I'll meet you at seven in the parking lot
(Dodge Veg-O-Matic there in the parking lot)
We can all just stand by my car, you know,
an unbelievable night
I called it surreal, Sir Mix-a-Lot tape in
Hit the spot, spot my next victim
I'm picky like I missed a spot shavin'
Came to sip vodka, shit
I’m from New York
Bubble coats and them Jordan’s
Bent blocks in a hooptie
Circle back in a foreign
Bitches mad that I’m touring
Bitches mad that I’m
Get busy!
Sir Mix-A-Lot bread the ultimate freak
So cute in a suit, my beats can see
Intelligent freak, wardrobe complete
You can fold my robe,
Put it on ice
But sir that's my heart
Well this is a surgery
You better lighten up
Sir, light is more like tuna on a gluten free cracker
That's
wife because of it
But I got this life because of it
Told ya, game don't never get old
[Sir Mix-A-Lot - talking]
Yeah don't grab the game bull by
it's bad for my health
But I don't give a fuck 'cause
I'm a match for myself
I stay fuckin' with y'all
I stay fuckin' with y'all
A lot of people say it's
I used to let my pants sag, not givin' a fuck
Baby boy, now I'm all grown up
I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
Baby boy,
I used to let my pants sag, not givin' a fuck
Baby boy, now I'm all grown up
I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
Baby boy,
to be defeated
By some freak mix of Shady friends
Who may try to make this beef stick
But any chance that my foot wont' snap off
Into their greasy ass,
for my village, yeah
I do it for my pe (Aye, yes, sir)
And the blood drippin' by the gallons (Grr)
Dolo in the whip, I solo any clique
It's not
Dark
And when it kicks in you can hardly talk
And by the sixth gin you're gon' probably crawl
And you'll be sick then and you'll probably barf
And my
Dark
And when it kicks in you can hardly talk
And by the sixth gin you're gon' probably crawl
And you'll be sick then and you'll probably barf
And my
Malibu on my yacht (twenty-five hoes)
I got twenty-five M's in the bank, no cap, no lie (yes sir) (twenty-five)
Run up an M, ain't trickin' (run it up)
rover
Mix a lot of perks in my soda
Yea I hate being sober
Good gas thats the fucking oder
Popping all these pills till it's over
I'll be gone by Ocotber
only thing that brighten my mood (Yes sir)
If you had a million you would feel good too (So good)
Never ever cheated but don't play by the rules (Hell
a fuck about
Mic cords, at night, swords get up
Together, black wrists get cuffed
I'm wishin' for a change
My man want his change in a cup
Yes, Sir, I'm in
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
get that hot
Then start to Sir Mix-A-Lot
[E-40] White girl (x4)
(?White girl" continues to repeat x12 in background)
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I
Sold, your number, sir? Thank you
Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen
A poster for this house's production of "Hannibal" by Chalumeau.
Showing here.
toward South Shore, wrong way homey
This street's for Mix-A-Lot's posse only
Looked in his mirror saw my big gold grill
Ain't no place to run so you
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