[Intro]
Let's get it hype, n****
Let's get it crump
Yeah, yeah, yeah

[Eightball]
Pa** me them Swisher Sweets, let's get it crump
If a n**** disrespect me I'mma prove my s*** and dump
Blast ryhmes like I pump, turn your belly to jelly
Veteran MC, I don't think you rookies is ready

Three hundred and fifty pounds of pressure to deal wit
I run with Suave, always packin' something to kill with
Feel this b****, when I get rich I'mma still hustle
Go down in history, paper taller then Bill Russel

Kilo flows, I got 'em hid in the basement
Choppin boys up, on some puttin' it in they face s***
Eight Ball, F-a-t M-a-see-k, known for layin' it down
And doin' s*** the playa way

Callabo's of the dough ain't no secret
Space-age pimpin' means I don't do free s***
Time waits for no one, it ain't gon' wait for me
Yours truly, signed Eightball and MJG

[Chorus]
All my hard core n****s, what you want to do?
My real thug-a** n****s, what you want to do?
All my money making b****es if you ride with me
I'mma pimp 'till I die and I'mma ride for free

Now where them real b****es at
Where them real b****es at
Where they at, where they at, where they at, huh?

And where my buck n****s at
Where my buck n****s at
Where they at, where they at, where they at, come on

[Foxy Brown]
I ain't new to this
Damn nice b**** that's true to this
Money ain't never been a thing to me
Always stack my dough, holla back (uh)

A** fat, thighs thick, titties perfect
Inhale the cheese from here to Tel Aviv
Y'all know it, s*** I don't bluff
And no dough? I don't f*** 'em

F*** I'mma fake for?
Make mine's, I'mma take yours
'Cause I'm no n**** like love be 'fore
Make b**** scream like, gimme some more

If a n**** broke, what'd you f*** him for?
Waste of time
It's like we playette minds
Don't stop, get it get it

B****es, take it from a real motherf***in' pro
Y'all get that dough, we don't trust these n****s
They gon' pimp if you let them
From NY to the dirty south

And them b****es' dime tight
I got my mind right
And my ice got the shine right
And if it don't blind b****es

When them lights hit the wrist?
You won't be sticking s***
You be lickin' this

[Chorus]

[MJG]
I'm the pimp motherf***er, baby
Ice cold, stories so high
I pimp the whole village twice
So tight fold crease right on the president's nose

Pimp clothes, drinkin straight Henney'and Buckstrum
Touch toed, hoes take a centerfold pose
Break a treat, make 'em pay to enter those
Pros, slam those

Game tied tight like bows, we never close
Three-sixty-five, twenty-four
Hand chose bithces a la mode, gettin' sold
Plus a load of killer, as Chronic gettin' blowed

Keep it froze, tucked up in a Tupperware bowl
Stick of gold, somethin' from the school of the old
Forever flows, I take it down as deep as it can go
Burn rolls, braids tight, blazed afros

We're pushin' hoes
Dicks get erect like poles, pay the toll
MJG is in control

[Chorus]

[Juvenile]
Peep dis', you and them boys need to slow down
Up in the morning in the court, it's 'bout to go down
There's no remorse now, better expose rounds
Them jackets be on the lose until the dope is found

Juvenile's my name, b****
I represent it to the end, the same s***
N*****s don't be wearin suits on theses blocks
All you see is your boys and reeboks

A thin hat to the back with a strap too
Willin' to bust a n**** a** if he had to
If you feel the same my n*****, you's a hot boy
Blocka, blocka, blocka

Better get up off the block, boy
Call for the cops, boy your mommy or pops, boy
Cash wasn't a million, never hit the spot boy
You want props ha, you sold to the cops ha
You in a cell block ha, 'cause you too hot ha

[Chorus]

[MJG]
Where the real ones at? Be-atch...
Oh, you know how we feel
About all you 'want to be' a** ghetto super stars
Want to be like 'me a**" n****s

Tryin' to be like Foxy Brown b****es
I give a f*** about your intermureal status, motha f***a
You ain't nobody
We been doing this, been doin' this s***

We go way back with this baby
Talkin' about this real s*** on the mutha f***in' microphone
Pimps and hoes and gettin' money
Tricks and hoes and f***in'

Mutha f***in' clothes and s*** ridin' vogues and s***
N**** riding on 20's and s***
N**** what chu got?
Brand new-a**ed n****

You don't know nothin' about this game
Come on

[Repeat Chorus]

Writer : SMITH, STEPHONY E. / LLOYD, GARY
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc., EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group