Pimpin’

Lyrics

[Intro: DJ Quik] Rain, rain, don't go away Stick around a minute, wash this filthy shit away Yeah, yeah Boy, I sure hate doing you niggas like this But you bitch ass niggas deserve it [Verse 1: DJ Quik] Punk, respeconize the OG when I'm playing my game And if you gon' speak on me, nigga, say my name 'Cause all that talking in codes, hiding, you walking in droves Gon' have you expendable niggas running, dropping in folds And you niggas didn't want long hair until I came (Nah) I was watching Ice-T, nigga, and soaking up the game (Oh yeah) The belief that I'm standing on, my religion is mack So Rhythm-al-ism's evil twin brother is back Fuck hiding your Rolex, nigga, hide your necks, nigga And your career is almost finished, hide your checks, nigga You sponsor old hoes that's been used and circulated When I bust 'em new up off the lot and put 'em to work, you hate it The fluidest credibility ruining lyricist that there is (All day) And I'm a straighter shot, nigga, than Rafael Perez And this rap game, even in my teens, I was cool with it And I was through with it before y'all figured out what to do with it [Chorus: (James DeBarge) + DJ Quik] (Pimpin') Yeah, for better for worse, I'm married to… (Pimpin') Ha, for richer, for poor, nigga, I'm married to… (Pimpin') Yeah, and in sickness and health, it's gotta be… (Pimpin') And the hustle continues… Always [Verse 2: Playa Hamm] I eat 'em up like toffee 'cause I'm lovin' sweets Especially to these G-One and DJ Quik beats Now what you talkin' 'bout love? We can't have at all When I slides up in this club and stands tall, you better call Your homegirls, and tell 'em it's real Soon as they hit the door, though, they gots to peel See, 'cause I can't conceal what I feel when it comes to my riches No glitches in this game and that's right, I clowns bitches 'Cause they ain't specific when it comes to they ways And I've always been prolific executing these plays Big G, Darkside, and Suga Free be clever So what you want and what you think, don't you ever say never Yeah, I got your little messages, I comprehend The language that your body be speakin' and I intend To give you what you coming for, I'm here if it's conducive To increase the count amounts and exclusive, ya heard [Chorus: (James DeBarge) + DJ Quik] (Pimpin') Ha, in sickness and health, it's gotta be… (Pimpin') Ha ha, for better, for worse, nigga, I'm married to… (Pimpin') For richer, for poor, for rich, it's gotta be… (Pimpin') Double M, show 'em what that sack like [Verse 3: Double M] So many hoes never willing to donate not a penny So I counts my portion, and stack my fortune And if they're thinking of trying and coming and test mine, take mine And give it the way I make mine, and fonk with the way I rock rhymes Hoe, you best raise up while I blaze up Tired of that punk ass behavin' like a vulture or raven I'm savin', all my money up for a Benz And a Pontiac so I can bone all of your friends 'Cause this ain't a game show, and I don't pay no hoe Tryna juice me for my riches, you could sleep with the fishes At first you wouldn't get with me, but now you wanna come and trick for me 'Cause I'm stacking up G's I suggest you take an aspirin for your headache 'Cause the shit that I just spit to you gets harder than Salt Lake, hoe So you can step down that Yellow Brick Road And leave the pimpin' up to drop a lyric trickin' the hoes [Chorus: (James DeBarge) + DJ Quik] (Pimpin') In sickness and health, nigga, I'm married to… (Pimpin') Yeah, for richer, for poor, nigga, it's gotta be… (Pimpin') Ha ha, for better, for worse, nigga, I'm married to… (Pimpin') Suga Free, hit this and let these bitches know what's happenin' [Verse 4: Suga Free] You, gotta, believe in me You see see, I got to act up With that P-O, oh we he he, herb, al a herb ezerb (Neptune) She put it sweet on herself, if I'm in traffic with the bitch And if she ain't the bitch, ha ha, the bitch gon' feel myself Bitch, you got a closet in your pocket? 'Cause you can hang up that bullshit your lips is movin' about 'Cause, bitch, I ain't gon' jock it Suga Free gon' give your ass the blues And I put that on me and the P, trick, and it's gon' hurt like brand new shoes You said, "Baby, you want something back from the store?" I said, "Yeah, a can of ackrite, a bag of shut your mouth, and don't come back here like that no more" And nigga must've said, "Suga Free, you finna buy a brand new Lexus?" I said, "Yeah, get in, nigga, you and your homie, 'cause I'm finna buy y'all some dresses" They must've sent me to the pen (Why?) I drunk some gin and stomped a white bitch completely out her skin Haters be sayin' shit like, "Suga Free, how you wipe your ass with them long ass nails?" I said, "The same way groom, slow as hell" I hit the Caddy switch Now tell these star-struck peasant wanna-be ass motherfuckers "Who yo' daddy, bitch?" [Chorus: James DeBarge, Suga Free] Pimpin' (Hahahahahaha, ee-ee, Black Tone) Pimpin' (Ah-ah, mack or die, ah-ah) Pimpin' (Keep the P in it, ah, pimpin') Pimpin' (Believe in me) Pimpin' (What?) Pimpin' (Say season me) Pimpin' (Season me, just season me) Pimpin' (Season me, got you pimpin' at the motherfuckin' third degree) Pimpin' (Record in the sack, like a dime) Pimpin' (And she never comin' back, Tony Lane got her) Pimpin' [Outro: Suga Free] Pimp or yay, bitch — bitch, I'll pimp yo' mama