| That nigga this, that nigga that. |
| Where’s Quik? |
| Where’s Tone?
|
| Where’s Hi-C? |
| When your album coming out, holmes?
|
| I’m more anticipated and most waited on
|
| That I don’t a fingernail, or break a sweat, or break a bone
|
| I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night
|
| You want a toy to go play with, bitch?
|
| 'Cause you’re fuckin' with some dynamite
|
| Watch it, 4, gotta get mo'
|
| In Pomona, California or Divisadero
|
| And since you wanna report it?
|
| Yeah, I crushed up some crystal meth, lined it up, and snorted it
|
| Gleek-gleek-bah-dah-shabba-dah-ho
|
| And when a pimp feel he had enough, he need him some mo'
|
| (Hey Suga Free, why you blastin'?)
|
| I don’t know, motherfucker
|
| Call that nigga you heard it from and go on and ask him
|
| I’m on parole, cuz, and I ain’t into telling
|
| I’m into scientific research, bitch, to keep ya bailing
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free?
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free?
|
| Cut the crap, biatch; |
| you can’t con me
|
| I’ll slice yo' ass thin as salami
|
| Not Ronnie, Bobby, Ricky or Mike
|
| I go bad like OJ, sav like Ike
|
| Gesundheit, so cold, you sneeze
|
| Iced out grill, tattooed sleeves
|
| Bitch please, me no comprende
|
| All I understand is 'daddy, send me'
|
| I drink Rémy Martin
|
| Flows on a cougnut, barking
|
| Old school nigga like Theodore
|
| When I see a whore, I can’t ignore
|
| I’m all in her face like an angry coach
|
| Servin' her potions and antidotes
|
| Hop in the Range when it’s time to go
|
| She’ll do whatever I say, she’ll even be my hoe
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free?
|
| Yep, A-B-C-P
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free?
|
| Pimpin’s been around since the first day
|
| And I been utilizing my mack hand, swingin' my back hand
|
| Checkin' bitches on the daily, fuckin' with my paper route
|
| If you’s a broke bitch, best’a get the fuck out
|
| No disrespect but I’m a mack, that’s how the game go
|
| Pimpin' these hoes from Hunters Point to Fillmore
|
| Mac Dre and 4-Tay keep it sucka-free
|
| 360 degrees, you feel me, Suga Free?
|
| Dirty dead presidents
|
| Put a safety deposit box at my residence
|
| 'Cause real playas stack a grip, can’t be hesitant
|
| Maneuver on my cellular
|
| 100, 100, 100 mo' profit on the regular
|
| Droptop double-R's, stackin' like Escobar
|
| Gotta get that cheese, Cali niggas do it all
|
| You need garage door opener, haters glancin'
|
| Keepin' the feds off balance, they can’t find my mansion
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free?
|
| Yep, A-B-C-P
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free?
|
| Yep, A-B-C-P
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free?
|
| Mackin' ain’t nothin but a thing to me
|
| 'Cause I’m a double OG P-I-M-P
|
| Do you know your alphabet, Suga Free? |