[Intro: Too $hort Ray J]
Lalalalaladida
Biatch
That's right (Lalalalaladida)
Some real playas just walked up in this motherfucker
Nah, nah
It's not those other niggas
It's us, baby
What's up?
Oh yeah
I'll tell you something
Let me tell [?] something
[Verse 1: Too $hort]
Now let me tell a lil' story 'bout some real pimp game
'Bout a fake-ass rapper, won't say the simp's name
He always wanted to rap to a real pimp beat
But he never could, 'cause he's not a real MC
He was so lame, he just couldn't stop trickin'
But on his albums, he just couldn't stop pimpin'
All his hoes called him Tony, every day what they heard
Said he always act like my favorite word
But I don't pillow talk, bitch, I don't care
A real player won't never pay her
I just tell her recognise game and relax, freak
And keep your ass in the backseat
I can never be faithful to just one broad
I can't help myself, I was always hard
These other niggas talking that pimpin' for life shit
At the end of the day, it's real love with the wife and kids
[Interlude]
Real talk for you
[Verse 2: Crooked I]
I said this industry
Be pimpin' niggas like dummies, oh yeah
I say they sellin' CDs
But you never see no money, it's no fair
You say you touch figures
You stacking up chippers
Yeah right, you can't rub [?] grub niggas
You say you flippin' dope, you must be sniffing coke
Oh my god, it's a facade, all of these niggas broke
And you can sit and boast on how you did the most
Give a fuck if you from here or a different coast, listen close
None of you motherfuckers wanna wage war if you ready
'Cause I'll fill your ass with so much [?] your body will weigh more than a Chevy
Rappin' pays, that's what they yelling
But ass for days, that's what they're selling
You been chosen to work like [?] skirt
Your chips low and it hurts, we pimp hoes in the dirt
You rip flows in the burst, but no grip goes in your [?]
Ten toes to the turf [?] six holes in your shirt
Weenies, y'all rappers [?]
Label fucking you like a bitch, now you ready to switch pimps
But I know and uh, you know
Once a ho, always a ho, no matter where the ho go
Holla though, I have you calling me your mentor
Live on TV so the world can see the way we pimp whores
My clothes say it all, na, [?] at all
Gayter stripes on my [?], it's a fall in the players ball
Put you haters on pause
Goddamn it (Biatch)
[Bridge: Crooked I]
$hort Dawg in this motherfucker
Yeah
You know Tha Row operating in this bi-iz-natch!
And uh, you niggas can keep getting fucked by the game, but we gon' make our change, man
Biatch
[Verse 3: Eastwood]
When I get to smoking and drinking, I get to rhyming and [?]
Bitches fly out every weekend, with a pimpin game, ain't no secret
A young boss, don't get lost
It's money over bitches
[?] hoes and stacking my riches
Whenever these bitches, they taking a picture
Like can I get with ya?
I'm sticking and moving, state to state
And I got a ho in every city, fasho, I know I'm a break
The E.A.S.T.W.O.O.D
And all these hoes they see me, everytime I show my face, they get on they knees, they kiss the pinky
