Lyrics:
twice
Hey Mr. Postman
Power, power, I come, gimme some
The deadly voice over drums, we from, ATL
Put the SWATS SWATS on yo' car
Let's travel far,
Pimpin' pimpin' pimpin'
Ladies and gentlemen as we ride out
Can we have all the real pimps
Please put both of your pinky fingers high in the air?
Now
Pimpin' pimpin' pimpin'
Ladies and gentlemen as we ride out
Can we have all the real pimps
Please put both of your pinky fingers high in the air?
Now
goin'?
Bring yo' ass back, here right now
Cook my food, and clean my house
Put my dick in yo' mouth
Hell naw bitch you ain't goin' out
You better realize
(50 Cent)
Yo this is 50 cent, yaknawsayin?
I'm here with my man Whoo Kid, you know how I put it down nigga
It's not safe around here as soon
When you make the Kool-Aid
You put your own amount of sugar in it
Sweet, sweet love to your taste
To your own specifications
Now tell Kool-Aid,
When you make the Kool-Aid
You put your own amount of sugar in it
Sweet, sweet love to your taste
To your own specifications
Now tell Kool-Aid,
himself
Stitched by Dapper Dan, oh man with the gun in hand
I leave your blood squirting
No offense, I'll put your face on the chest of a sweatshirt
who tripping true spitting
Cadillac coupe dipping
Crew whippin wit yo bitch present
This is new pimpin
Roll up get a cup only Hennessy sippin
West Coast
one album I put out that ain't sick?
No I'm not the Doctor, but I produce the same shit!
[Chorus]
Big cars, big wheels, big chains,
Big pimpin
of Cris with ma-ma
Put the bar on the tab for ma-ma
Throwin' hundreds up for grabs for ma-ma
Cause it's about to go down tonight
I'm a be drinkin' 'til
on
Gotta getcha game together man, all your women gone
To start all over, ain't nothin' to a mack
Just put 'em to work, and watch yo' money stack
That's
the trap" (it's ya boy Yo Gotti)
I have wet dreams 'bout my kitchen, I got trust issues with my bitches
Every gun inside my city, it got switches, I'm not
', what you sayin'?
Pimpin', what you sayin'?
Listen how the mile per hour's knockin'
We keepin' it movin', beatin' down the block
Man (Uh, Young Vega, I
Kurupt, Young Gotti
I'm fuckin somethin' in this bitch, hit em with some gangsta shit
Put somethin' in your mouth bitch real tasty
I'm lookin' real
Stomping in the party
Kurupt, Young Gotti
I'm fucking something in this bitch
Hit 'em with some gangsta shit
Put something in your mouth bitch real tasty
I'm
gleam clean (what, uh?)
And to hell with the price 'cause the money ain't a thang
Put it down hard for my dogs that's locked in the bing (uh-huh)
When
to state
I seen my braw take down your boy from around tha way
If you fake I'm gunna let you know from the top
And leave that dick in your mouth, and put
a brick if you down and tapped out
A nigga shot your homie in the head, you just getting high about it
Yo Gotti straight up I'm a snitch killa'
Don't
gleam clean (what, uh?)
And to hell with the price 'cause the money ain't a thang
Put it down hard for my dogs that's locked in the bing (uh-huh)
When
comin' like the Gotti boys
Bodies bein' found on Greenleaf
With their fuckin' heads cut off, motherfucker, I'm Dre
So listen to the play-by
shit
GOTTI:
Pimp gotti get da dues in them double down like them kids wit tips who tops
Down bricks who get money quick see me representin bomb city
Breathing Chronic in my system
Watching your body hypnotize me from your rhythm
Put that thing up in my kitchen
See your body type's to carry
can't deal with
Try it (hataz) you gonna get yours to the heart
Lesson tonight by the four-four
Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit
L.l. an red
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