Pitbull - Give Them What They Ask For lyrics
[Pitbull - Give Them What They Ask For lyrics]
Fuck that club (Shit)
They want that thug (Shit)
But I ain't no thug, bitch
And I ain't no gangsta, bitch
I'm a hustler, ho and I got no problem
If you want it, you can get it
Boy, I bust you
Anybody wanna test? Hi, who? Me
P-I to the motherfuckin' T
It's not my fault that your bitch chose me
Now her and her girlfriend wanna do me
This is for those boys in those Chevys
Sittin' on them King James them 2-3s
And if you got a problem with me
Holler at my lawyer bitch, sue me
I'm tired of the fuck-boy rap, fuck-boy this
Fuck-boy that watch a couple movies and they
Put it in they rhyme those wanna be fiddlers
I'm straight, you get shot nine times
Ten years in the game, since 99
I was speakin' my mind (Yes, sir)
And then shit changed, if you got a problem
Bitch, cross Dade County line
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that street talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that chopper talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that dope talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
That trap-boy jackboy shit
I'ma tell y'all boy
Y'all boys got me fucked up
(yeah, straight up)
Better duck when them things buck
I ain't nigga boy
Nigga what? Nigga who? Who the fuck is you?
Talkin' to me like you know me
Ain't your dog, ain't your buddy
Ain't your homie nah brah, not me
And if you spit it, better
Live it, better in fact, better show me
I'ma make em say uhh
Not even Master P could crack like this
And you ain't never seen a chico in the gang
This raw since pawn that could rap like this
(TS) i hear them and they raps about
The coke and the crack
And the click to the clack, but to me
It's chit-chat
Blam, motherfucker, take that, now
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that street talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that chopper talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that dope talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
That trap-boy jackboy shit
I'ma spit it, flip it, rip it for them boys
Makin digit's off the coke when they whip it
Ride a stick, double clip it
One Mississippi, two Mississippi
Three Mississipi cock back, click it, blam
Poppin' what you think is last
What you wanna do is get found in
A trunk in a lake and stankin'
I took my money from the shoebox
Now I bank it foolish, ain't it?
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that street talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that chopper talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that dope talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
That trap-boy jackboy shit
Fuck that club (Shit)
They want that thug (Shit)
But I ain't no thug, bitch
And I ain't no gangsta, bitch
I'm a hustler, ho and I got no problem
If you want it you, can get it
'fo I bust you
They want that thug (Shit)
But I ain't no thug, bitch
And I ain't no gangsta, bitch
I'm a hustler, ho and I got no problem
If you want it, you can get it
Boy, I bust you
Anybody wanna test? Hi, who? Me
P-I to the motherfuckin' T
It's not my fault that your bitch chose me
Now her and her girlfriend wanna do me
This is for those boys in those Chevys
Sittin' on them King James them 2-3s
And if you got a problem with me
Holler at my lawyer bitch, sue me
I'm tired of the fuck-boy rap, fuck-boy this
Fuck-boy that watch a couple movies and they
Put it in they rhyme those wanna be fiddlers
I'm straight, you get shot nine times
Ten years in the game, since 99
I was speakin' my mind (Yes, sir)
And then shit changed, if you got a problem
Bitch, cross Dade County line
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that street talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that chopper talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that dope talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
That trap-boy jackboy shit
I'ma tell y'all boy
Y'all boys got me fucked up
(yeah, straight up)
Better duck when them things buck
I ain't nigga boy
Nigga what? Nigga who? Who the fuck is you?
Talkin' to me like you know me
Ain't your dog, ain't your buddy
Ain't your homie nah brah, not me
And if you spit it, better
Live it, better in fact, better show me
I'ma make em say uhh
Not even Master P could crack like this
And you ain't never seen a chico in the gang
This raw since pawn that could rap like this
(TS) i hear them and they raps about
The coke and the crack
And the click to the clack, but to me
It's chit-chat
Blam, motherfucker, take that, now
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that street talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that chopper talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that dope talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
That trap-boy jackboy shit
I'ma spit it, flip it, rip it for them boys
Makin digit's off the coke when they whip it
Ride a stick, double clip it
One Mississippi, two Mississippi
Three Mississipi cock back, click it, blam
Poppin' what you think is last
What you wanna do is get found in
A trunk in a lake and stankin'
I took my money from the shoebox
Now I bank it foolish, ain't it?
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that street talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that chopper talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
What they want, that dope talk
I'ma give 'em what they ask for
That trap-boy jackboy shit
Fuck that club (Shit)
They want that thug (Shit)
But I ain't no thug, bitch
And I ain't no gangsta, bitch
I'm a hustler, ho and I got no problem
If you want it you, can get it
'fo I bust you