Lyrics Son of a Pimp - Mistah F.A.B., CMT

Son of a Pimp

I was born in eighty two January twenty third
I was my mamma’s only child
And to my daddy I was third
In a itty bitty city by the water
The town Oakland California
Pimps outside popping collars
Spitting game better watch your daughter
On San Pablo I seen it all
Caddies, Volks white wall
Young black girls, white bras
I used to tell a pimp I wanna be like y’all
They said don’t be like me be better than me
A straight scene from the Macs
But meet coasts and go rolls
How could you not wanna live like that
Six by nines in the trunk
Coming through with tremendous bump
Candy painted cars with all flavours
And they didn’t wear sneakers they wore gators
Son of a pimp
(P.i.m.p)
Son of a P.i.m.p
Son of a pimp
(P.i.m.p)
Son of a P.i.m.p
I was raised by pimps and players
Macs and gangsters
Told me forever stay after bread and be about your paper
My whole household was full of game
My daddy and my mamma
My daddy had hoes, in the house
And there never once was drama
I got it honest I cannot lie
That’s why these chicks don’t impress me
OPM and is what my daddy used when he was stressing
But he stay fly suited in boots until the day he passed
Gucci hats, Armani slacks damn that man had swag
Son of a pimp
(P.i.m.p)
Son of a P.i.m.p
Son of a pimp
(P.i.m.p)
Son of a P.i.m.p
In Oakland California there’s only three ways to live
Play ball, duck the law or pimp on a bitch
I did all three coming up tryna live like my daddy
I had a Benz, on rims and Volks on a caddie
When I said Son of a Pimp some thought I was lying
But when they seen that first album cover
Man it was no denying it
Now look at this album cover yep, that’s my mama
That’s madam Des, pimping ass with bands fucking up commas
Son of a pimp
(P.i.m.p)
Son of a P.i.m.p
Son of a pimp
(P.i.m.p)
Son of a P.i.m.p