What you mean I'm gone man
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You don't even know me
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Well go ahead and get 'em up busta
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Come on with it . . . Wahaa!
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[chorus]
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Y'all bustas just don't know
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Y'all can't get with the Mix-A-Lot show
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The man you love to hate ain't phased by the fakes
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If you want to playa hate
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Eat a big 'ole snake
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[chorus #2: x4]
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It's The Man You Love 2 Hate
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The J.R. Ewing of Seattle
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[Verse 1: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Me and Kid Sensation with that home away from home
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In the fat butt dulie with the painted out chrome
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15's whippin' in the backside
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With the boom boom boom thats how I ride
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And Cha Ching I'm a player making ballas holla
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I got a girl in Mississippi, but I never call her
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Cause it's like that I still got game
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I can memorize your number, but I still don't know your name
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The conservatives are thinking I'm a pimp (I'm a pimp)
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Just because I kind of stroll with a limp (With a limp)
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But I still got love for the few who stayed down
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But some of my ex's ain't around
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Why is that ??
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Cause the rock man got them and their butt's just dropped
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They started losing weight
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Their grill's looking shot
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So I switched her
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I'm steadily keepin' 'em mixed up
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I'm keeping, down and holding my crown and giving them hiccupps
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Boo-Hooing (Boo-Hooing)
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When you call me
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But we was playing on each other so you are wrong, see
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Sitting around anti-nails
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Your disputing my sales
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Fantasizing 'bout counting my mail
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[chorus # 2: x4]
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[Verse 2: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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Lady listen, Do I really make your man that pissed ?? ( mmm-hmmm)
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Flipped it around and tell your man like this (mmm-hmmm)
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If you hate Mix, than why you talk about Mix ?
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You say you ain't a trick, but you trippin' so she's splittin'
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Now she's coming out to Mrs. Ponderosa
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She drove a beater so I heard her getting closer
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She got an old V-Dub (Volkswagen) with the damaged exaust
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But she was fine, so I figured I could toss
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And watch the 808 kick drum
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Makes this girlie get dumb
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She's grabbing on my bum tryin' to get one
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And I'm taxing, waxing, I gotta take a note
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Frrrtttt!!! Farted on the downstroke (ewwwwweeww)
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Playa's in the house can you feel me
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got these playahaters lookin' at me silly
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But with this mouthpiece a brother's gotta win
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The ladies say you are fine, but your mackin' is kind of thin
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No more Broadway, I'm hollering Rainier
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Swoop around blocks dropping windows yelling, "Come Here"
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And you complain 'cause I mad a little change
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Its all in the game, boy to hell with the fame
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[Chorus #2: x4] [Then falls into Chorus #1 x1]
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[Verse 3: Sir Mix-A-Lot]
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I got my buck on them rolling down to Cali
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I got a brand new home out in the valley
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Jumping off I-5
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I crack a left-eye, got to pick my homey up the attitude adjuster
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Seven in a jet black truck with a deaf black G-Lock in case we out of luck
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Cause with these haters you gotta keep your strap
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Cause we taking all their sugars now they tryin to take us back (Yep)
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So you got your and I got mine, so why do you whine about my grind ??
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Sitting around blaming Mix-a-Lot for your situation
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Boy get a job and quit player hatin'
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It ain't about winning your respect
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I'm just checking more mail than you check
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So heres the finger next to my index
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I'm all about your lady
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Cause she's all abou the sizex (sex) haha
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[chorus #2: x4]
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Yeah, the Pacific Time Zone's head honcho
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The amigo force feed you soe of this bad ass ego
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You know what I'm saying
|
Try going platinum suckas
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Dos
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Tres
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Watch out for Cuatro, Motherfm [bleeped out]
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-----------------
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Man U Luv Ta Hate
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Sir Mix-A-Lot |