Belts to Match

Lyrics

[Hook: Sonji Mickey] The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match [Verse 1: Bun B] Oh yes, its Bun B, but no applause – please, unlock yo' jaws Just unbutton 'em, unzip 'em, squeeze out if you got no flaws You'll get across the cause You know you got respect if the men all pause Having a meeting up in the ladies room – gettin' it, ya'll Porsche caravans, Benz, Cadillacs, and minivans; pull a cut-up Yo, Smitty, whattup? Ain't no time to nut up I suck my gut up, then I let them boppas talk, until I let 'em shut up Say, baby, raise that tush up, gets that face down Jazzed up, I can't pass up Aye, C – fill ya brotha' glass up The spot, I'll blast up – just in case you gassed up Couldn't last up – for you, it's all down from here Far as we concerned, ya'll need to get ya'll self around from here You'se the clown this year? Man, I'm known to wreck the century Giving industry enemy infantries infinite injuries instantly If it's meant to be; behold the pimp in me Ain't no simpin', just sit back, relax – baby, you fin'st to see [Hook: Sonji Mickey] The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match [Verse 2: Smitty] I be flippin' and whippin' In this game, ain't trippin' Candy paint on my double-O, Northstar keep dripping Fifth wheel, bumper grill, slightly tinted windshield With a solid gold Byzantine 'cause you know I'm trill Drop screen, sippin' lean, assorted Ranchers in my cup Hittin' the scene, diamonds gleamin' – young player with big bucks You can tell–I'm a pimp, by the way that I walk You can tell–I'm a playa, by the way that I talk You know, I'm superfly by the car that I drive And you know, I don't love broads, I'm hollerin' "pimp or die!" I drink dry, and have you out there selling yo' snatch You met your match, the day you got too attached With the – [Hook: Sonji Mickey] The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match The piece, the chain, the gangsta hats The alligator shoes with the belts to match [Verse 3: Pimp C] Uh! I'm Pimp C, trick – we got the funk (Got the funk!) If you a baller in the South, we in yo' trunk (We in yo' trunk!) If ya 'bout it and ya knowin', hold an O (Hold an O) And you ain't ridin' in my Benz, if you ain't smoke (Get! If you ain't smoke) If you a square type chick then get 'round (Get from 'round) Hop it up, pop that thang, and touch the ground (Ground!) Now get crunk, get crunk, get buck, get buck And let me see it, if you gon' give it up (Give it up!) I'm tryna' leave in yo' girl, like Dirk Diggler (Dirk Diggler) ATL–Gentlemens Club, paper high as Caligula (Caligula) Get on ya job, gurl, and make it disappear (Disappear – uhh!) And drop a three carat diamond in my ear, now I'm Daddy (I'm Daddy) I'm Daddy (I'm Daddy) Grippin' wood, it feel good, in the Caddy In '99, we ain't messin' wit' no rats (Wit' no rats) It's time to put some real life pimpin' on the track (And bring my money back, trick!) [Outro: Pimp C] (Hold up! Yo) UGK records–know what I'm talkin' bout Smokin' something for the '9-'9 – hold up You need to get your mind on your money Get down 'bout your paper Down here, we ain't makin' Hip-Hop song, know what I'm sayin'? We makin' Country Rap tunes – so, uh, you could separate us from the rest You heard what I'm talkin' 'bout? Ugh