| Hold up, Sweet Jones, 64 dollar cologne bitch
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| Smellin good, leather and wood, feelin on somethin
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| Know what I’m talkin 'bout, check it out
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| (Pimp C)
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| Sweet Jones, in a foreign car, shinin like a muthafuckin superstar
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| I’m sippin the bar, grippin the grain
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| I got 17 karats in my piece a chain
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| I been a young pimp nigga since I was a kid
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| Mama would be 'shamed of all the things I did
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| Like cookin the stones and bustin caps out the 'rome
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| I keep a chip in my phone and put key domes in ya home
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| I’m the trillest of the trill, you the fakest of the fake
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| Pussy-ass niggas in the club tryna playa hate
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| While I’m standin here draped in diamonds
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| I ride with made niggas, some choppin on blade niggas
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| Survive enemies, Mississippi get paid niggas
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| They lay ya lup in ya lap, and let the pistol dome clap
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| And it ain’t all about this rap shit bitch nigga
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| Handle the business with the muthafuckin chrome trigga
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| (Chorus-Pimp C)
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| Now if you heard what I said then get crunk, get crunk
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| Now if you heard what I said then get crunk, get crunk
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| Now get buck, now get buck
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| And pop ya pussy if you don’t give a fuck
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| Now if you heard what I said then get crunk, get crunk
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| Now if you heard what I said then get crunk, get crunk
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| Now get buck, now get buck
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| And pop ya pussy if you don’t give a fuck
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| (Crump)
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| Sweet done analyzed the game, now he taught me the shit
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| I get some golds in my mouth, platinum game I spit
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| Pimp done told me 'Vel, these niggas ain’t nothin but hoes'
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| 'You make most of ya cheese off production and shows'
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| See it’s all good, lift up ya seat, don’t piss on the wood
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| If these niggas feelin froggy, let 'em come to the hood
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| It’s all gravy daddy, get crunk, get crunk
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| Talk shit bitch, and get stomped, get stomped
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| Big Crump in Baton Rouge and ?? |
| in P.A.
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| I hit moms with 10 grand, now I got money to make
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| I watch it bubble and shake, choppin lyrical cakes
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| Niner-Ross on my side, for these busters and fakes
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| (Kamikaze)
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| Don’t ever talk to police, don’t let 'em know just where you sleep
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| And watch them killas 'cause they creep
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| And won’t believe that thugs get deep
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| If I said it then I did it, if I speaks it then I live it And early Christmas we gon’gets it,
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| 'cause me and C we 'bout to spit it
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| ??? |
| partner, but I’m not, tryna cypher what I got
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| To get this shit, it keeps it hot
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| Then sell it back to make this knot
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| You sons a bitches ain’t gon’last, tryna pocket all that hash
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| Can’t even launder all your cash, 'cause you gon’swander on some ass
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| I’m like pimps say, it’s hatin goin on in P.A.
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| But shit them same hatin niggas is on them streets where I stay
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| We go from Jackson back Texas, want some action come and check us Got that love then come and bless us,
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| think we soft then come and test us Just us trill southern niggas, you brought you that bouncin jump
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| So on your left is Mr. Franklin, on your right is Mr. Crump
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| Dump them niggas in the trunk, UGK smokin on skunk
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| Crooked Lettaz ain’t no punk, we hit yo city, get it crunk
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| And ain’t not pimp without no hoe, ain’t no show without my dough
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| You try to floss but know you poor, 'cause you’s a rapper with no flow
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| So I’m a tell you out the door, ladies don’t look if you’s a crow
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| Nigga’s don’t speak if you’s a hoe,
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| you got the sweet, nigga let’s blow and get crunk |