| Yeah, G’s up nigga, hoes down nigga
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| Uh, yeah, g’s up nigga, hoes down nigga
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| You know how it is, she is connin' you
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| Yeah, yeah, New York, California, wherever
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| What the fuck is ya, H.B.D?
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| Chickens come, and chickens go
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| We beat that pussy every time we on the roll
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| Ya need to stop, ho, protecting these hoes
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| Just he I’m troopin, then, let the pussy go
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| 'Cause a ho could never ever be a housewife
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| So don’t try to do so
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| You are better off livin' ya life
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| On gettin' that dough
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| She was ya main chick, the one you walked in the rain with
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| The one you cooked up and chopped up ya cocaine with
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| You depended on stickin' my dick up in the thong
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| Could have been ya baby mom, if she didn’t do wrong
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| Started listenin' to snakes in the garden
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| I beg ya pardon, had titties that’ll triple the size of Dolly Parton
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| Had the thuggish nigga broke and hardege, droolin' and starvin'
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| Suckin' my dick while ya niggaz was kissin' and slobbin'
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| Batman and Robin, put her in a threesome, menage-a-trois
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| She fuck niggaz just to drive their car
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| Bettin' that, smellin' like strawberries, the more the merry
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| Even brought her best friend so I can bust her cherry
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| They both came, baby oiled and ready
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| Ass split like a machete, I had them tossed up in my telly
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| She knew Dreddy and the rest of the Sunz
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| Three o’clock, swallowed my cum, my frankfurter laid in her buns
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| Industry chicks, who bone niggaz only with whips
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| Gettin' open off the karats that was lit on ya wrist
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| Straight groupie, who love givin' rappers the coochie
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| Wanna be in video scenes strippin' for more C.R.E.A.M
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| She addicted to the dick morphine, at eighteen
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| This is for all the bitches and hoes who ain’t queens
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| Hit the road, bitch
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| And gimme back all my dough, my dough, my dough
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| Hit the road, bitch
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| And gimme back all my dough
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| Hit the road, bitch
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| And gimme back all my dough, my dough, my dough
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| Hit the road, bitch
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| And gimme back all my dough
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| I thought I told you, never trust a chick that hold you
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| It be the money that you get that make them wanna bone you
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| When you hit it good, they wanna own you
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| Get ya address, ya age and ya phone mobile
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| And don’t know you, lookin' fuckable, but gullable
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| Butt naked, and loveable
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| Same chick I hit, son, I seen huggin' you
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| Never trust no, chickens or hoes
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| Trynna find out my beeper code so they can put me in the sleeper hold
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| Gotta stay on my tippiest toes, a sweet rose’ll
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| Put ya in ya grave clothes, if you outta ya zone
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| She be the same one that get ya dick up on the bones
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| Sticks and stones keep ya waitin' for ya chick to come home
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| +Where My Girls At?+ like 702
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| You spend ya money on daily, but still givin' head to my crew
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| My nigga Goldie, what what, Hell Razah
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| Yeah, yeah, G’s up nigga, hoes down nigga
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| 7th Ambassador, yeah, Baghdad, what
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| Ah, yeah, that’s how it go down
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| Ghetto Government, ah |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pimpology , by - Hell Razah. Song from the album Sunz of Man Presents: Freedom of Speech, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп