| Hoes and tramps
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| buts and sluts
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| bitches tricks
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| tits and butts
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| Bitches be dreamin for this eight inch demon
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| and when you hear me screamin, I’m about to free the seamen
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| wipe myself off on your couch cover
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| if she talks any trash I’ll flash my box cutters
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| cause I’m rougher than any pimp you’ve had in your life hoe
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| I talk soft, walk tall, carry a rifle
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| kill that bullshit cause if baby gets trifled
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| I’m lacing the liquor with some piss and some Lysol
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| roll in a shit-brown Lincoln, eatin’a sticky bun
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| spot-check the block, big one is gonna gimme some
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| cause I’m a freak, I like the girls with tattoos
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| I once got busy in a Burger King drive-thru
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| I take 'em two at a time, make 'em both say my name
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| ain’t never had three, but best believe that I’m game
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| and that’s the key game, girl I fit words like scrabble
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| the inner-city cowboy with the thick herds of cattle
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| cruisin’lake street, gene pool ridin’shotgun
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| got the flyest tricky’s from the Mississippi to Boston
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| I’ve got a house full of porn to keep the vibe warm
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| the doors always open honey, come out of the storm
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| yo I got daddy’s little girls, ones that always stay true
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| I’ve got an uptown girl she dyes her pubic hair blue
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| and I’ve got a bitch that lives in Kenwood, rich townhouse flavour
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| she travels on business I’m gettin’down with the neighbors
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| I got a freak that drives the bus, shows me love with free rides
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| one hundred hoes in St. Paul but only one from east side
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| got a Bloomington bitch with a pool in her apartment
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| rug burns all over from fucking her on the carpet
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| got the mega-mall hoes, make them all work the food court
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| yo hit me up with a chicken soft taco and a couple of Newports
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| got a stripper bitch with body jewels and fake titties
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| and a hoe that lives in Fargo for when I escape the city
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| but my favorite one, out of all of 'em, is YOUR girl
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| I sway the tongue never once have I been forceful
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| she lays it on like its a job that she loves
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| who’s lips is these? |
| the response is always slugs
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| the Richfield bitches freak the lip gloss and hairspray
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| downtown women that like to fuck on the staircase
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| north side chicks, south side chicks, suburban chicks
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| love to open married women up to the pervertedness
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| disturbing your relationship, excuse my morals
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| I’m working with the way I trick 'em out, silly mortals
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| the words I kick, the sport I play
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| now what to say when I’m sittin at this buffet with these tasty morsels
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| crusin down the street in my babies mom’s caprice
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| February got the windows cracked, wearin a fleece
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| hit the bus depot, yo boo you kinda cute
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| gimme nine and a half weeks and I’ll have that freak flippin two
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| distribute and come across the ???
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| I know its hard being young girl, let me soothe the pain
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| I understand you baby, straight up I understand
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| now lift up your ass so I can pull these fuckin’pants down
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| the only ones I don’t do is those under eighteen
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| or at least I keep that shit a secret if you know what I mean
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| I got sluts that love to give head, and I like to watch
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| the way they move their tongue up and down my…
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| Motherfucker! |
| I can’t believe your sittin down here
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| recordin’some bullshit like this
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| (Hey man it’s just a song, it’s just a song, it’s like a joke)
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| Oh, you wanna be a pimp eh? |
| you better take your ass over
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| to that neglected girl you got there.
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| (Why you always trippin’on me in front…)
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| Motherfucker, you got a kid, how you rhyming about some bullshit like this? |