| Wherever we go, another player whore
|
| From city to city, we still Gorilla pimpin'
|
| We still pimpin'
|
| We keep the whores the Ghetto Stars
|
| We’re sippin' Caviar
|
| From city to city, we still Gorilla pimpin'
|
| We still pimpin'
|
| Sometimes I have a whole modern bullshit on my mind
|
| Sometimes I sit and write hype rhymes time after time
|
| About these hoochies, about these hookers, about these hoodrats
|
| Bitch you disrespect that, Bitch you’ll get your headcracked
|
| Now, pay your tribute to B.C.G. |
| (Pimp — Clinic — Gang)
|
| Yo, and bow down cause we roll through
|
| Cause I was half melabo with this bitch from Hundred Noo-Noo
|
| You should’ve seen what she wants to do
|
| She wants to do it from the Livin' Room to the Kitchen
|
| I mean all up in the cabinets, bread conditions
|
| Yo, now let me tell you somethin, this is how you break a whore:
|
| Tell what she wanna hear, take where she wanna go
|
| And when it gets real good to them
|
| You gotta treat them like you don’t even ahh care for them
|
| Yo, yo, that’s a tactic, you call it psychology
|
| We are from the Pimp Clinic, we call it pimpology
|
| And we pimped on like them Rolling Stone makin' hits
|
| All up in the traffic, yellin' fuck the bitch
|
| Yo, on that for reala my nigga
|
| Yo, cause when I pimps, I pimps like a Gorilla, yeah
|
| Pimp Clinic Gang Bandanna, hang with my Banana
|
| Banana be in my clip, A.K. |
| — set trip
|
| Keep Clinic mingle, peep the new single
|
| Flossy pimp nigga, peep cap when I hit you with the mental
|
| Carvan cause the whores look good to me
|
| They spit light too, I was hookin' up their wig
|
| Now, they be sterned up, and they got their mack up
|
| Come on, here me speadin' love as I get my grind on the Microphone
|
| Slide you on the homie’s Benz, been some of the homie’s ends
|
| Hell of conversation with you and the friend
|
| I never lied to you, just so I can slide to you
|
| Check it out, let me show you the view
|
| And continue, to smell good and look good
|
| And still be chasin' them hoodrats, like a nigga should be
|
| With a hell of a Chronic Sack, with my fat ass Gat
|
| Yeah, nigga has got a Low-Rider, plus, I mobs with the Rottweiler
|
| Chronic sow the whores follower
|
| What or Why? |
| — cause that’s what I wanna do
|
| Click with my ignorant, Pimp Clinic pregnant
|
| I’m a type of nigga that causin' a gang of drama
|
| Oppose it, chillin', see I’m all up in your baby’s mamma
|
| Fools, get trippin' like they’re royal
|
| But see half of these bitches can’t spell the word LOYAL
|
| I run deep with a gang of killers
|
| So if it’s static, we better come for reala
|
| I said: trust no whore til the day you die
|
| And don’t be sown your soul just saved because you suicide
|
| I hit the A.C. as I roll through Kila
|
| California On the turn of way to Pomona
|
| To make peace with my kinfolks, metanade on some hell of a smoke
|
| I keep real like I used to do on the street
|
| Cause still water is runnin' deep
|
| And if you really wonder how I fill up
|
| Can’t nobody get by a Gorilla
|
| Ugh, we run game on you whores and start to finish
|
| Now, it’s the good, the bad and the pimpish
|
| Now, why would I run down the hood to fuck one girl
|
| When I can creep down the hill and fuck them all
|
| Ugh, I know this pinky P-Y-T, so young, so sweat
|
| She was only Seventeen
|
| At one of my shows, kickin' it backstage
|
| You know them young ass bitches never at the age
|
| She whispered in ear: do you wanna fuck?
|
| This young bitch made my dick hits, called up on my nuts
|
| My? |
| is ticklin, this bitch kept on minglin'
|
| She gave the pussy and in my ride she wants to be a singer
|
| Promises, promises, I taped that ass and kicked the bitch up out my S-Class
|
| And on my dashies I say: Pimpin' Ain’t Easy
|
| I can’t kick it around the bitch that got no rhyme with me, ugh |