[Paul Wall]
|
I'm a hustler, ladies man of course a playa
|
My behavior, is somewhat similar to the majors
|
Cause I be running game, everything that I say
|
To a girl, is all derived from my immaculate nature
|
When I pronunciate, my articulate game
|
It appears that I've obtained, more game than I claim
|
All I ask is for her name, and she ain't never the same
|
Am I just that cold, or are these other cats lame
|
My conversation, is top of the line
|
I'm spitting lyrics, to every last bopper that's fine
|
It's like I'm rapping to the chick, she wanna stop and rewind
|
And analyze my wordplay, while I'm dropping a dime
|
Is it they pheromone, that's attracting my style
|
Or my luminance exuberant, expensive smile
|
Either way I'm warmed up, and running game for miles
|
I keep em on file, I holla in a little while
|
|
[Hook]
|
Why you peeping me, do you like what you see
|
I bet you never, met a playa like me
|
You staring at me, wondering just who I be
|
I'm sure you'd like to know, why a playa like me so thoed
|
I'm coming at you with game so cold, you just got chose
|
If you wanna roll, then let's go
|
|
[Paul Wall]
|
Look here, I'ma be real with you
|
Lil' mama's all up in my picture, want me to stick her with my dill pickle
|
My supreme, you need physique and superb
|
My play on words, got em feeding me ordurves
|
I'm making honey dips, lose they composure
|
They begging me to come over, so they can get closer
|
They want closure, from drinking they self sober
|
Hoping that if they bend over, they'll get bit by my cobra oh
|
Girls is firing, to get rear ended
|
By my extended cab, my sweet talk is splendid
|
I come with game sharper, than Gillette Mach 3
|
One of a kind conversation, you can't out talk me
|
They want position is this competition, they on a mission
|
Wishing that they was kissing, on my composition
|
They got ambition, they dream to manage my extension
|
But this convention, into intermission
|
|
[Hook]
|
|
[Paul Wall]
|
On the real I got a mouthpiece, that'll have em
|
Dismantling they robe, and laying naked on my couch seats
|
It don't take much, everytime my mouse speaks
|
I notice that the region, around they crouch leaks
|
I graduated, from the MUSHU Academy
|
Is that the reason, why these girls boyfriends mad at me
|
Too much of my sugar, might give em a cavity
|
And oh no we can't have that, now can we
|
My premeditated, propaganda
|
Got em in they birthday suit, like a peeping Tom's dancer
|
Yeah they sexy, and I know that I'm handsome
|
But don't ask the question, if you don't want the answer
|
That means don't ask, if I remember your name
|
I probably don't, but I bet I might remember your brain
|
Straight up, I'ma tell it to you simple and plain
|
I got game, is there any more questions
|
|
[Hook - 2x]
|
|
-----------------
|
Why You Peepin' Me
|
| Paul Wall |
