Bitch

[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