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<Verse 1: MJG> |
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I gots no mutha****in' ends, sit and wish for a riot |
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Knowing it's too damn hot outside, plus I'm tired |
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My income is hurtin' and then some, why can't lend some |
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G’s to a brother making his come up undercover |
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These hoes, they want new clothes, to ride on Vogues |
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And most of the time they be getting chose when they pose |
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Ain't no victory in doing shit for the next ***** of the century |
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Can't do shit for me but an injury |
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I be the pimp master, outlaster |
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Outblaster, 30 bustas with the outcaster |
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Hit the masker, don't ask a |
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The identities of the fallen enemies, nigga, please |
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<Verse 2: 8Ball> |
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Heart of a hustler, real, done by no bloodstains |
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Take it how you wanna take it while I break it down, mane |
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Crews come in twos and threes but they all fold |
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Enemies of me and MJG's tight flow |
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Hoes jockin', tryna slip into a nigga pocket |
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Get in the hotel room naked then scream "Stop it!" |
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Listen, I'm gonna take it to another level |
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All you need to do is suck me clean like a Dirt Devil |
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Shovel-packin' ******* wasting my precious time |
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***** creamin', simultaneously schemin' |
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What do you see when you see me? I’ll tell you what |
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A true player from the South in the house |
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<Verse 3: Lez Moné> |
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When it comes to getting rugged, this ***** is wicked |
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Style like none other, this ***** can kick it |
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Southernplayalistic ***** with the meal ticket |
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Slamming like Hakeem when it comes to this rap thang |
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Tomboy-ish ass flow, so now you know |
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Lez Moné been kickin' shit since '84 |
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'Cause it’s a big deal like Poppa, my shit is proper |
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And tucked inside the boots, I got my shit-stopper |
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******* recognize, haters realize |
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Suave House shit is thick, sit back and catch some of this pimp shit |
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As we dips through your mutha****in' hood |
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The shit is understood, give up your goods |
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Eight, tell 'em what you see when they go ****in’ with the crew |
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<Interlude: 8Ball> |
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We on top of the world, *****, I thought you knew |
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What they know about them Nuckleheadz? |
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Madam, break it down for me one time |
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<Verse 3: RacQuel Gemini> |
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Ha, all I wanna do is be fly, toss niggas and stack mail |
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But in the meantime, I gotta post bail |
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My so-called homies began to realize |
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The quality up in this G ***** nationwide |
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When I see you, prepare for this player to put the stare on ya |
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Telephone ya? I thinks not |
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So what you know about that Suave House? |
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Oh, we cold like teddy, about to turn the ****in’ lights out |
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So let's turn some corners up on that Northside |
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Southside, it sound good up in that D ride |
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And if I was a nigga, I'd be on my own **** |
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Just like a trick or a gold-diggin' ***** |
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Swing low sweet chariot, off in the Marriott Hotel |
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But oh well, madam macks |
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Well, hittin' harder than Vernon |
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Ask that L-E-Z what this ***** be earnin' |
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<Verse 4: 8Ball> |
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It's me, original player, OP |
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Stout woman undresser, professor, hoe tester, inc |
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Smoking, from the cess to the chronic |
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Throw away your papers, real niggas get blunted |
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Silk tailor-made, black as a spade with braids |
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Gator shoes, making money hungry hoes choose |
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Gold smile, tongue flowing like the Mississippi |
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Lyric constructor, smoked out like Chris Tucker |
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What the—busta musta didn't pay attention |
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Hit rewind and let me take your mind back in time |
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Remember me, little, fat, cute, and chubby? |
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Now I’m mean muggin' niggas, walking 'round shoving niggas |
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When I open up my mouth, you can hear the South |
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Packin' guns, stackin' funds, **** selling out |
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When you see me, what do you really see? |
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Screaming like Mike and Janet, but you don’t hear me |
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<Verse 5: MJG> |
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Never no more than the P-I-M-P-I-N-G since the day |
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That I stood in the hood, I would be strictly down for my dollar |
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Break a ***** scholar |
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Hoe, give me my cheese 'fore I snatch you by your collar |
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Better not holler |
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It's the nigga with his **** in your throat |
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Better not tell a lie 'cause your ass might choke |
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I'm smoking plenty bud, drinking 'gnac and riding candy |
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Shit to make a bullshit day feel dandy |
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What do you do when you see straight through a nigga's game? |
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Do you hang point blank range to his brain? |
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Will he have a life after death? I don't know |
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He push me like a hoe, he gotta go, he gotta go |
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Note the flow when the gun smoke clears, it be history |
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Call Captain Kirk for the unsolved mystery, quickly |
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Tell a muh'****a what you see |
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Fading out this world peeping up at MJG |
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(That Suave clique is so thick) |