| It’s just some more of this cold-blooded, unscuffable pimpin'
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| Untouchable ism, tougher than denim when I run up in ‘em
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| All on these broads like a cheap suit
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| I hack into her brain and crash everything down
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| (Then what?) Then reboot
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| Yadamean? |
| I’m the million dollar dream
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| Cash over a batch, see, that’s a common thing
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| She’s so vulnerable in the presence of the honorable
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| My game’s phenomenal, no need for an audible
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| I’m colder than the Abominable Snowman with a popsicle
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| Just follow my voice, I can guide you through any obstacle
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| Anything’s possible when you’re dealing with me
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| You better believe I’m ahead of my breed by many degrees
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| My profile is exquisite, for years they tried to prohibit
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| But kept comin' up short like a midget
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| When you’re in the Hall of Game, come and visit my exhibit
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| And you too be one of few to be schooled, you dig it?
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| Hey, look what the wind blew in, bullshit
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| I go to sleep to wake up to it every day, I swear
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| I don’t see how some muthafuckas bear
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| But they do, and anything you do long enough you gon' get at it quick
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| Whether you gotta pimp a hoe or slang hot dogs on a stick
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| Bake… and…shake…us, I’m gettin' hoe money in Vegas
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| It took some time for this, man, see I got two kids and I love ‘em too
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| So reconsider that player hatin' ‘cause it’s a few things we can do
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| And I can count on one hand how many people love me
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| And I can count on the other hand how many people got love for me
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| Now, Bud (bud) Weiser (weiser) gin (gin) 'gnac (yak)
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| I’m not just her pimp, I’m also her quarterback
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| I’m rollin', feelin' like I smoked an ounce
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| Hittin' dips in my shit because I like to bounce
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| She said she never gave head and I knew she lied
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| Because she sucked my dick like it was apple pie
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| I’m across the nation with the Magnificent globetrotters
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| And don’t get mad if it happens to be one of your daughters
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| I’m space age pimpin' with some ice age game
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| So from the past to the present, they will know thy name
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| My chariot’s a Benz and my scepter’s a pimp stick
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| My game is artistic, for the cheddar I go ballistic
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| It’s my jones, I need it, I’m in a zone undefeated
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| So leave me ‘lone or get heated, I’m on a mission to get it
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| When I get, don’t split it, ‘cause it’s all mine
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| Not a third, not a quarter but all the time
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| My linguistics’ll turn her out faster than a match’ll burn out
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| I’m global like warming, noble and charming
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| I get farther like NASA, colder than Alaska
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| Or a polar bear, colder than an Eskimo in underwear
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| Subzero ism that gets up in ‘em
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| Through leather or denim, in any weather I send ‘em
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| Why don’t she? |
| Why won’t she?
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| One day she gon' see, she got me lonely
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| Those are words you’ll never hear from us
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| You didn’t know it’s pimpin' over here with us?
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| Oh, what a hit we made
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| Never givin' a bitch a break
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| Sippin' on them vintage grapes
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| Police we quick to shake
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| Pedal to the metal, never hit the brakes
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| Smokin' hella weed, no sticks or shakes
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| Funk with hella niggas, I instigate
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| Dumpin' on niggas, I hit and skate
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| Fans they picture take, your mans they pimpetrate
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| I’mma take all the money the hoe make
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| She gon' keep it comin', man, and don’t wait
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| I don’t fake, I don’t hate when I put my voice on tape
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| Everybody goes so stupid dumb
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| Everybody say, ‘Man, he can come'
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| Like 151 Bacardi Rum, Dre gon' get the party dumb
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| Always got bomb for the lung
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| And when the police come, man, I run
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| Yolking something, dosing something
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| Smoking something, Syko, make them hoes sing
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| (Oh, what a hit we made) (Repeated in background) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song WHAT A HIT WE MADE , by - Suga Free. Song from the album Secret Congregation, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп