[Pimp C:]
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(Uh, Uh) One time for yo' muthafuckin'...(whuut)
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Back, bitch (uh)...Kool Ace (whuut), UGK...(huh)
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[Chorus: Pimp C]
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Pimpin' ain't no illusion,
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And pimpin' ain't never died.
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Mo' pimps was on that heroin
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And yo' pimp tripped out on that fry.
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The dikes done came through
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And straight threw off all the game;
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Got all these hoes thinkin'
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They could manage they own change.
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[Kool Ace:]
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But it ain't no illusion,
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I know...you all have witnessed
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He rollin' in my Caady mo'
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Wit' fly bitches,
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Makin' ole deals: Now, ho (huh, huh)
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Ain't Bob Barker
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But I'm caught up in this game
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Mo' like...Peter Parker.
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P-I-M-P, take the P's that I am.
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I want you payin' hoes in my army
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Like...uh...Uncle Sam,
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And we gon' jam...
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I'm talkin' 'bout the world greatest show
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I know my shit is extreme
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But I'm all about them does.
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When I'm steppin' on the scene
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Be there four deep...hella clan
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My reality is your favorite dream
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(Stop that shit, daddy...)
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Best believe Kool Ace gon' keep it real.
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Pimp C & Bun B to testify for the ear
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Excuse me, y'all, but this about Southern shit.
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Now, tell me can you...uh...feel this, bitch?
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We givin' 'em brain contusions...
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Pimp C, what's the conclusion?
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[Pimp C:]
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Pimpin' ain't no illusion...
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[Chorus: x2]
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[Pimp C:]
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Pimpin' ain't dead...nigga, it just began
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(How the fuck you know Sweet Jones?)
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My hoes still out there sellin' ass.
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Yo' bitch is out of pocket,
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'Cause yo' pimpin' was scary;
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Real hoes gon' front on a simp
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But she gon' do it for daddy.
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Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie;
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But, boy, my bitches know the difference
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Between real pimpin' and movies
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It's the difference between real leather
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And that shit at yo' house.
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I don't know what y'all doin' up there,
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But we really pimpin' in the South.
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Every since I was 17,
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I been stackin' my green:
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Went for servin' rocks to fiends,
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And rockin' club full a teens.
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Went from bumpin' Screw in Houston,
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Sippin' promythazine,
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To ridin' in a 8 600 with sheath,
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To smokin' on sticky green.
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I'm still Pimp C, bitch
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I'm claimin' P.A., they hate us;
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But, me and Kool Ace rollin' a Lexus
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Sittin' on all gold Daytons.
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Bitch, take a look around
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Those hoes steady choosin'.
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This is the conclusion: pimpin' ain't no illusion.
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[Chorus: x2]
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Bun B:
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If you got any love fo' that broad you wit'
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Nigga, move her 'fore you lose her,
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'Cause a beggar ain't a muthafuckin' chooser.
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Third leg is a bitch abuser, infamous
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In cities where big pimpin' is my hoes clean.
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No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis
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Come catch a wif a this...
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Damn, can't you taste it?
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Now yo' money's up in smoke
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Like you freebased it.
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Now bitch replaced it
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Wit' a sexual favor
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But don't get mad at real pimpin', nigga
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Check yo' behavior...and savor
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The aroma from Promona to Tacoma;
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Got my pimpin' diploma for bein' a Cadillac chromer.
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Fuck a Sonoma...
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I'm on a mission for Benzes
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Knowin' 'xactly where my ends is, ballin' relentless.
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And then my friends is
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Slappin' niggas with glass chins
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It's funny...sendin' tricks home
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Broke and defenseless; and, ever since this
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Boy been pimpin' the pen,
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I promise never to ever leave home
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Without my pimpin' again...that's why...
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[Chorus: x2]
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[Too $hort:]
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You know, I got to tell you players what I'm talkin' about:
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My bitch got bold opened a bank account.
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When I found the bitch checkbook,
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I didn't get mad
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'Cause there was no doubt that I be gettin' the cash.
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I broke it down to her,
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She gave me the dough;
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Do you remember what you was
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Before I made you a ho?
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You was a broke bitch,
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You couldn't even smoke shit,
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Couldn't stay fo-cused,
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And, don't forget it, bitch...
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Yo' whole life changed the day you met me.
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Now you think you need a bank account,
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Baby, I can't see
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You managin' this money...it's too much.
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All you do is look good...
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And then you fuck.
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Git my money, git yo' money
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It's all the same.
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The shit ain't even funny when you talk about this game.
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They call me Too $hort, baby
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I'm still in it.
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Ain't no camouflage, nuttin' but this real pimpin'...beeyatch.
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[Chorus: x3]
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