Lyrics:
dance in that pussy, tell me when to go
I'm tore up, feeling like I'm 'bout to throw up
One night with me this bitch about to blow up
Man, don't play
the Cadillac
By bitch I mean fro, hell to heart and had a mack attack
Give me a brick of blow you never seen it flip as fast as that
And you can keep
phone, just got paged by a curly curly
Hit me on my horn three times if you want the crack
But fool don't be paging me no more for no credit sack
Sipping
the real Dill
Like my brother Tommy
We a couple rugrats
Ghetty green bitch
On some Project Pat shit
You waiting on a check
Cause they played you on your
when you Own the whole building
You can tell when you see
I'm not your regular civilian
This silk on me pimpin
Stop tricking and pay attention
Listen
Nothing chillin at the Holidae In
(Who you wit?) Me and my peeps won't you bring four of your friends
(What we gon' do?) Feel on each other and sip on some
ain't got to do nothin' but whistle
Get the drop and then we wait on niggas, we the play just like scripture
Niggas tried to play me to the left, but
Mista Don't Play though
Raised in the projects so I pat them pockets
My rhymes be like nines when they shoot off like rockets
Straight to the cranium
hood, this shit embedded in me, tatted where my crown
If you some fine shit, and you a trick, I'll turn my gangsta down
Ha ha ha, they thought they had
do?) Feel on each other, and sip on some Hen
One thing leading to another; let the party begin
[Chingy]
Peeps call me up, said it's a hotel party
your life
Yea we know you niggas are fuckin'
Scared cuz we don't play around
Never wanna step cuz Three 6 Mafia
Put you in the ground
People say you
Supreme comes to give his boy a pat and a pound, put his hoodie on the couch, his Timberlands up on the chair so his bitch can bring him a beer. So, this is
Dis bitch, dat hoe, hoe let me see ya pussy
Dis bitch, dat hoe, hoe let me see ya pussy
Hoe, soakin' fuckin' wet, hoe, soakin' fuckin' wet
Project Pat
clothes
Hell nah she ain't, she's just an average hoe
That gives the average dick the average blow
Don't play, don't look at me that way
Don't switch
I know
for? What you die for? Bounce!
I got some bitches that'll ride for me, die for me (Whomp!Whomp!)
Cornbread by the ki, the language when you call
and
Amputated his shootin' arm
Now that's a stretch, Ab-Soul
Like the fifty-mile strip when
I'm pimpin' these hoes
Call me Dolemite, no, I take that back
I wish
and winning Oscars
Yeah, 365 Mafia, Project Pat, Lyfe Jennings
If you can believe, you can achieve every damn bug
'Round us a good day, yeah
Seventeen years
on schedule
This many hoes ain't regular
I go by young T. Edison
I made the team some lettermans
Just to remind them we ball
Just to remind them we ball
to trust
I been rolling 'round town feeling woozy
Tryna ride on my side, I get choosy
I don't know who is trying to use me
(Hey) Pimpin' ain't easy
me on
I'm a project, lift me up
Pull me over, pat me down
I'm a object
But I'mma object, stick up
Till you put me down
Make a mess on your block wet
me out i been authentic aint no counterfit
Switching up the flow this off the dome cause i was meant for this
Banging old school project pat on my
than all the heads up in the projects
While you're standin' there wonderin' how I'm
Rippin' and rockin' the shit
Pimpin', poppin' shit
2Pac’ll hit you
Shout out, to my man Lil Flip
Big Mo, Project Pat and the whole three six
Yea, I know about them Texas boys
Who keep a liter in the cup, and a heater in
skinned shaking ass out that Gucci thong
Called her by the wrong name told her play along
And if she didn't then she's out by the next song
I'm pimpin
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