| Well a motherfucker could never control me, only squeeze me and hold me
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| That’s what the ho came up and told me
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| Now is she bold G? |
| But in my mouth is where the gold be
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| Cause I be pimpin her like Goldie
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| Gotta get paid in this age my fingers ain’t made
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| Just to be choppin up confetti with, if it’s already thick
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| You better study nigga if you ain’t with it you can get it
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| Cause I ain’t even on that petty shit
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| So who the fuck do I competi with?
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| The rhythm I kick, is like a rhythmly-wicked-arith-a-metic
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| Pick em up quick and then give em the dick, thinkin I’m innocent
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| They up in the mall shoppin for me pickin a fit
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| I got them heffer’s nose red
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| And when we get in the bed, I be leavin em with rose legs
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| Stuffin that made em wanna pose dead
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| But you already got em until you get up in them hoes head
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| I don’t mean to sound bogus or nothin
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| But it’s the bomb when I be havin them cuties thinkin
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| I’m in love with em, when I’m rubbin em
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| Be gettin pub with em, in a club with em
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| Smokin dub with em, huggin em, freakin in the tub with em
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| After gettin paid from her she ain’t trippin
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| Cause she know she got what she paid for
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| She honor my name, I gotta tame, here it go
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| Now we speakin with the game on ways to make mo'
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| (Let me play with your) emotions ho
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| To the rhythm of a hi-hat, take a puff and lie back
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| Let me stimulate your mind, body and soul, I know you want to try that
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| Now motherfucker can you buy that…
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| Tell me baby can you buy that
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| I got you under my complete control, you know it’s worth more than
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| Diamonds and gold, now don’t be bogus and deny that
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| Now how the fuck you gon' act ho, I saw you creepin out the back do'
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| What you runnin from a mack fo'? |
| Lay you on your back slow
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| Cause you know I got you with my lasso
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| Blow your mind like a afroCome and take a glimpse of the stairs
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| It’s the aroma of a pimp in the air, I betcha notice the smell
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| It’s like a lotus when I flow dis, cause my eyes be the lowest
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| If you didn’t notice then you bogus as hell
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| I’m puttin women under my spell, like I’m up in their brain
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| Pumpin their vein with game for the anatomy that’s feminine
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| They’re fillin em up with adrenaline, got em geekin
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| We’re speakin approachin up a pimp like a gentleman
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| Submission is surrenderin, it ain’t no endin if it’s on
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| With a blunt from the bomb side
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| In the right place, with the right mind and the right line
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| You can get a lifetime contract
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| They be wise until they look into your eyes
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| A shorty freaked when she spotted mine
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| Took her over to my crib, lay low, hit her off from behind
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| Then she signed on the dotted-line, the ho was like
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| «Oooohh Daddy… why you doin me like this?
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| I’d do anything to be with you, you got me gone in the head»
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| Ya mind, I don’t mean to make a disaster up
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| Like my Dad to master love
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| But if a motherfucker breakin you for every penny you earn
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| Then how could you still show the bastard love?
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| I guess it’s cause I’m cold, shit
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| Thought you was gon' be spendin me I betcha think you sho' did
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| But game recognize game, now you lame in the brain
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| Stupid bitch that’s what you get for tryin to gold dig, now
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| Yeah, this be Hype, the Verbal Tantrum
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| Kickin it with my man Twista
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| If you should suck my soul
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| I should make your funky emotions
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| Nothin is good unless you play with it
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| Play with me baby
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| I know you think it’s blasphemy
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| But won’t you give up when she ask for me? |
| After he passed the beat
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| Since you said I was your Magesty, I had to see
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| And when you get paid, there is some cash for me, is it a tragedy
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| That I can get her so gone, the ho be trippin talkin up her love a lot
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| But the only love I got, is when I’m grippin like I wanna hug the Glock
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| Or when I rub the twat, or pickin up a dub at spots
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| Fuck the ho thugs, the clubs, and the phony perpetrators with dimes
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| The speed knots match voo-Do or Die, Psycho Drama, Crucial Conflict
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| Be pimpin with em gators and dons, collect the papers and dolls
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| Player haters remarks will get smoked to a blunt dust
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| Sso keep walkin the next time you hear grown folks talkin
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| Motherfuckers betta shut the fuck up, cause we make the women suck up
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| You insist to be trippin while we be gamin like Don Juan
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| What up the filet minion, the grey poupon
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| Them hoes are staked to charm, because we make the bomb
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| Now I don’t mean no harm, but either come on in or get on gone
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| And let me pull my pouch of snuff
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| In between your thighs, come take a pull and vibe
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| And let your tongue go coastin low, now |