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baby bash - that's what the pimpin's there for lyrics
[kat williams]
ladies and gentlemen, this is your friendly
pimp representative, kat williams, a.k.a. money motherf-ckin’ mike
please do not get the game crossed up
in order for you not to get tossed up
whether or not you are flossed up
it is necessary in every pimp’s life
to get bossed
[suga free]
(verse 1)
hey, suga free
why roxy jockin’
probably cause she don’t want you to know she got
caught watching a parrot f-ck a carrot off some of that oxy
she said one time at band camp, she was a rat
and go girl scout cookies lined flat on her back
one day, i was in the middle of some suck-n-duckin’
got tired of throwin’ my head up at this trick
bossed up like it was nothin’
i met her off the blue sky, i truly never knew why
but yet, the pimpin’ in that wh0r-, she loves it, cause i’m too fly
chorus: suga free & kat williams
cause i’m the only kind of man that she’ll ever understood
because that’s what the pimpin’s there for
she sweared a deal with a mack that keep her flat on her back
because it’s that’s what the pimpin’s there for
(verse 2)
can you believe this?
first thing, flat on her mouth, talkin’ about
i would’ve told, “b-tch, you wouldn’t told a n-gga sh-t!”
you know you love her up
actin’ like it’s hard g-14 cl-ssified
man, all that bullsh-t should cover up
holy nickelodeon…
you wouldn’t believe that this b-tch used to be a f-ckin’ historian…
but that’s what they get for love and sh-t
sincerly yours, suga free
and thank you for nothin’
repeat chorus twice
pre-verse: baby bash
sippin’ on that good bombay
rating these rat chicken traps all day
spittin’ real b-tter, stay away from parkay
ask me what i do, man, i pimp and parle
[baby bash]
(verse 3)
what’s really, though
i wouldn’t care if she smoke dope, shot rope
or chased a billy goat (billy goat?)
but you don’t hear me, though
pain and rent, you need to pray and repent
she might be ya girlfriend, yeah, but she my tramp
and i ain’t payin’ respect, i’m just takin’ a checks
and beat the sh-t, out of buff n-ggas, fakin’ a flex
we keep it a.o.b
all on, baby
y’all pay for p-ss, mayne, y’all so crazy
you trick harder than the nba
and got mad when your weeds got send my way
cause you in love with yourself, and she in love with your wealth
and wonderin’, why she still f-ckin’ everyone else
cause she ain’t got no manners, or self esteem
if i wish the right records, i could sell her a dream
and y’all still poppin’ collars, i’m a dust my kicks
why y’all still go to clubs and handcuff your chicks
repeat chorus twice
[suga free] i better boss up
[chingo bling] vieja
go bring me some church n’ chickens
jalepeno on the side
[suga free] i better boss up
[chingo bling] you look
you don’t know me
until you blow me
suck it!
[suga free] i better boss up
[chingo bling] don’t be a guy that puts crema and cacahuates in his bolas
for his dog to l!ck
[suga free] i better boss up
[chingo bling] hey, bash
call fred wreck
tell ’em ’bout the time he put that chick in the scissors, wey
(verse 4)
i once put a chick in a guillotine choke
made her steal some new shoes and get me some dough
and this ain’t no studio sh-t
how you think them ugly cats get a beautiful b-tch
and i just call ’em how i see ’em
from a.m. to the p.m
it’s young baby bash from a hustle mus-l-i-m
i spit caps
i spit caps
and send a ho, to the track, in iraq
repeat chorus four times
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