You

[Chorus: 50 Cent]

You, you, you, you, you, you

You pay her rent

You, you, you, you, you, you

You made her rich

You, you, you, you, you, you

You fuckin' trick

You, you, you

Man, what's the matter wit'chu

You love that bitch

[Verse 1: Lloyd Banks]

Man your supposed to be a player, why you chasing her for

'Fore she met you, she ain't know the name next door

See I don't know about you but I'm a P.I.M.P

But you ain't, so your pockets be on empty

I let the birds fly I don't handcuff 'em

Just get a lil head then I let my man fuck 'em, it's nothing

You give her the money to shop for the crib

How you think see get to see me, you watchin' the kids

My man, you won't catch me all emotional and mushy

'Cause I don't get pussy whipped, I whip on pussy

I been all around the world, had 'em big, had 'em small, had 'em tall

Chasin' me down the hotel hall