Baby Bash, Katt Williams, Chingo Bling, Suga Free - That's What The Pimpin's There For lyrics
[Baby Bash, Katt Williams, Chingo Bling, Suga Free - That's What The Pimpin's There For lyrics]
Pimp representative, Kat Williams
AKA money Motherfuckin' Mike
Please do not get the game crossed up
In order for you not to get tossed up
Whether or not you are flossed up
It is necessary in every pimp's life
To get bossed
Hey, Suga Free why Roxy jockin'
Probably cause she don't want you
To know she got
Caught watching a parrot fuck a carrot
Off some of that oxy
She said one time at band camp, she was a rat
And go girl scout cookies lined
Flat on her back one day
I was in the middle of some suck-n-duckin'
Got tired of throwin' my head
Up at this trick
Bossed up like it was nothin'
I met her off the Blue Sky
I truly never knew why
But yet, the pimpin' in that
Whore, she loves it, cause I'm too fly
Cause, I'm the only kind of
Man that she'll ever understood
Because that's what the pimpin's there for
She sweared a deal with a mack that
Keep her flat on her back
Because it's that's what the
Pimpin's there for
Can you believe this?
First thing, flat on her mouth, talkin' about
I would've told, "Bitch
You wouldn't told a nigga shit!"
You know you love her up
Actin' like it's hard G-14 classified
Man, all that bullshit should cover up
Holy Nickelodeon
You wouldn't believe that this bitch used
To be a fuckin' historian
But that's what they get for love and shit
Sincerly yours, Suga Free
And thank you for nothin'
Sippin' on that good bombay
Rating these rat chicken traps all day
Spittin' real butter, stay away from parkay
Ask me what I do, man, I pimp and parle
What's really, though
I wouldn't care if she smoke dope, shot rope
Or chased a billy goat (Billy goat?)
But, you don't hear me, though
Pain and rent, you need to pray and repent
She might be ya girlfriend, yeah
But she my tramp and I ain't payin' respect
I'm just takin' a checks
And beat the shit, out of buff niggas
Fakin' a flex we keep it AOB all on, baby
Y'all pay for puss, mayne, y'all so crazy
You trick harder than the NBA
And got mad when your weeds got send my way
Cause you in love with yourself
And she in love with your wealth
And wonderin'
Why she still fuckin' everyone else
Cause she ain't got no manners
Or self esteem if I wish the right records
I could sell her a dream
And y'all still poppin' collars
I'm a dust my kicks
Why y'all still go to clubs
And handcuff your chicks
I better boss up
Vieja go bring me some Church N' Chickens
Jalepeno on the side
I better boss up
You look you don't know me
Until you blow me suck it!
I better boss up
Don't be a guy that puts crema
And cacahuates in his bolas
For his dog to lick
I better boss up
Hey, Bash call Fred Wreck
Tell 'em 'bout the time he put
That chick in the scissors, wey
I once put a chick in a guillotine choke
Made her steal some new shoes
And get me some dough
And this ain't no studio shit
How you think them ugly cats
Get a beautiful bitch
And I just call 'em how I see 'em
From AM to the PM
It's Young Baby Bash from a hustle Mus-l-i-m
I spit caps i spit caps
And send a ho, to the track, in Iraq