Lyrics:
a job getting paid dollars by the week
I call my calls nigga I'm my own boss
Some niggas travel for the duffle
Make the wrong calls
And the take the long
They got me starin' at the world through my rearview
Go 'head, baby, scream to God
He can help you with your problems
Thug niggas wild when I come
a wreath on niggas' careers
We the best, Khaled
No need to stress, Khaled
Know there's a lot of artists
But I got the best palette
Multiple colors, my
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'
mind be free
And by the way, welcome to the party
Uh uh excuse me Mr kid Rock
Can I do my thing?
Can I have a little something
To say right here? (Oh
(and stop worrying, dear)
By now! Now, now (more hot pies!)
Will you wait there cooly (you'll come back when it comes)
'Cause my customers truly are
a new street, so posse move ahead
We all look kinda suave, the crew you can't forget
The Mix-A-Lot Posse, cold rippin' up the set
My Posse's On Broadway
boy
I smoke plenty grass boy
I'm touching on the ass boy
Go ahead and Sir Mix-A-Lot put it on the glass boy
I'm from the South boy
That's how
humor
It's a lot of bitches that they sent home in their Uber
Uh, high-profile niggas in my circle dodgin' rumors
I been tucked away dodgin' blood
homegirl G
See, vee like the mix and vee like the twist of em
Face, you can hit it first and then we can switch
It ain't no fun if my homey can't twist
don't have to mix with the Vanderbilt's
Not to take off your panties when you're wearing kilts
That comes naturally
That comes naturally
My
Ayy, hit the block and sell drugs (woo, woo)
That's exactly how it was
Take the Sprite and take the codeine (and mix it)
And I pour me up a cup
Get
it's often out of tune
And there are lots of broken fingers
In the dark parts of my room
Please don't touch
Please don't stop and stare
Yes I thank you
Disrespect, I shoot ya
By the way, them bricks, get flipped weekly
Sold by soldiers that mix weed with the leak leak
Die for a dollar nigga, life ain't sweet
wit all this gave me they hate to cherish
But still I made it
A made nigga made by the game
Made for war
My aim is simple and plain
Yah wether
Mix-a-Lot]
So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playin' workout tapes by Fonda
But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda
My anaconda don't want none
go round
My baby just, my baby just, my baby just
Slow down
Everybody got problems of they own now
Whole lot of loving that can go round
My baby just,
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,
[Intro - Sir Mix-A-Lot (Female voice)]
(Peek a boo)
This is the true story about a young lady I know
(Peek a boo)
A walkin' zombie, product
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
muthafucka
You know my flow, you know my stilo
Even pack my gat when I go to see my PO
Jump out my hooptie
Pass my gat and my lucci to my shorty
In case my PO
evening to the break of day
So step this way and let your mind be free
And by the way welcome to the party
Uh uh excuse me Mr. Kid Rock can I do my
evening to the break of day
So step this way and let your mind be free
And by the way welcome to the party
Uh uh excuse me Mr. Kid Rock can I do my
Niggas can't fuck wit' my clique
Who wanna put the money up?
I hear alot a niggas talkin'
But who wanna put they deal on it?
I hear alot a niggas
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