Lyrics:
for it because I
Couldn't see you could do this
I lot of rappers they come by
And they got their writtens ready i know
And sometimes they give you shit
cooler than Dippin Dots
I dipped for a hot while but baby got back like Sir Mix-A-Lot
One tray
Fifty shots
We get the guap, while getting sloshed
I'm
existent
Before you started popping and then
You're from New York there's
A lot of rappers from New
York that aren't popping right
Now so you got those two
mind that ouu (Yah)
I ain’t take no losses if I do then i’m a fool
(Bitch)
I go by the name of that ka rapper
Yehh i guess you prolly know it
How i kill
to pay me
It's crazy for the label with the reputation for acting a ass
Like rap a lot what's the label that was always on time with cash
Gave em my
bag, clean mix
Stretch out the pack, clean mix
Stretch out the rocks, clean kicks
Fresh out the box, beat sticks
New whips fresh out the lot
Ooh
Chainz
Parking lot of the Blue Flame
Only place I recruit dames
Big body from New Orleans, takin' up two lanes (Thick!)
Still 'bout the bread like
Scotty, I'm talkin' switch my mood by Puffy crib (wow)
Screamin', "Yes sir" (yes sir) matching stretched furs (fur)
My diamonds go, "Brr" (brr), yeah,
lasso
Top five on the scale
Do Re Mi Fa Sol
Dreaming bout La Si mami I got the dough(Do)
You rappers are gon cease to exist
When B.C's in the mix
Getting
[ INTRO: Chris Rock ]
...All this ill shit
This fuckin Sir Mix-A-Lot shit
What the fuck is this shit?
See the shit's video?
'PUT IT ON THE GLASS!'
my coffin
Countin' me out, hopin' that I retire
Fendi, my feet, mix it with Givenchy
She want you, she want me, she see diamonds and rings
It's
Breaking off a piece of me, yeah
Then I send it off to Ben and Reed, yeah
Mix it down and make it clean, yeah
Pussy rappers they can take a seat
to pay me
It's crazy for the label with the reputation for acting a ass
Like Rap-A-Lot what's the label that was always on time with cash
Gave em my
other rappers, man, they got the gall
To even think they on my level
Sports-Illustrated model all in my condo
Ice in the pot
In the trap, I'm Sir
same thang game came when I left em
I do it by my lonely now I'm the Big Homie
But I'm his Royal Slickness ghetto weakness come Rick is
You don't wanna get stretched in here
I'd break your neck
But you ain't had a neck in years
Sir Mix-a-Lot, you're goin' 'gainst the best
It's clear
same thang game came when I left em
I do it by my lonely now I'm the Big Homie
But I'm his Royal Slickness ghetto weakness come Rick is
a thing for a brother like me
Uncle Sam want to buy another missile (yep)
Strip Mix-a-Lot straight down to the gristle (mm)
I made a few mil'
or am I?
I'm so sorry sir, go on
I told the court "The deal deserves acclaim"
It really did, yeah
"Well how many folks submitted claims?"
Um, do we have
sold out, turnin young hoes
Tell her baby, no doubt, stick this dick in yo' mouth
I smoked a lot of weed, I said a lot of rhymes
Always fucked up in
than a fucking lightpost
I sold a lot of crack but I bought the most
Now I'm a basehead down on my luck
Roaming the streets and got hit by a Mack Truck
I’ve found that I don’t really bond with people my age
The energy don’t mix and it’s so hard to engage
When talking just consists of constant gossip
happen I'm a rapper I been spazzin'
Got me feelin' a lil different
But I still been gettin' active wit the dealers and the scammas
Either way that you mix
the rules, sticking to the code
Fast cars, status in the game
Got a reputation with the name
Passed the lane, I just want the change
Rappers lame, niggas
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