Songtext A rapper's reputation Sir Mix-A-Lot

A rapper's reputation

Im rollin in a nine-oh van. california, thats my plan
Got memories mixalot left in limbo, first stop sacremento
Here we go, hit a club called bentleys
Want a skirt to git wit me, hit me
Theres a girl with a back like a cadillac
I walked up and got pushed back
Her boyfriend tell her Im a play-a
Dropped salt on a dope rhyme say-a
My reputation offends this man
Next day hit williamland park
Creepin like a shark
Spot a bad freak and I swoop like a hawk
What up? , howya like to roll wit a champ?
Please! all yall rappers is tramps
My reputation is stoppin my mission
Every freak in sac is dissin
Back on the four lane freeway
Next stop, the two-one-three, l.a.
The two-one-three is rough
But the mixalot game is tough
Spot a young girl and I start that gamin
Baby girl asks what set am I claimin
Just cuz I rap, I gotta be in gang?
It aint a black thang, its a rap thang
Censorship is sweepin the nation
Messin up a rap stars reputation

A rappers reputation, thats what I got

So Im finished with the two-one-three
I knock, baby, but its time to leave
Two days on the hard rock, boys is cruisin
Interstate ten, straight to houston
They tell me bout the girls in the fifth ward
You know the boys must score
So we hit a fly club called guchies
Lookin for the skirts with the largest booties
Girlies in the club wasnt takin no shorts
Showin no remorse
For a brother like mix, lookin for the smooth
Didnt need a houston skirt to get with me
But the nights still young
And the hunk aint done
So we stepped to the van
Attitudes out of it
The next club, the main event
We never think about a dress code
Just step up in the club and let the game roll
But as soon as my boy maharaji pulls up
Some punk starts runnin up
He said you dont wanna be with a rap star
They play you for your money and your car
Well my boy got crushed but the girl stepped off
With a rap stars rep, the girls are lost
Hey yo, whats up, this is mix I had to make a run
Right quick, but leave your name and number n ill
Getcha right back, peace.

So the posse left houston texas
All the girls keep callin us sexist
Houston media is givin us rappers no pity
So we all hit kansas city
In k.c. we go the gates and suns
Gotta get grub fore we run
Met a little freak named stacy
I said Im not just here for the barbecue baby
She gave me that look, like pebbles
Im acked with bass not treble
So I say, oogley-goo oogley-doo-goo-doo
Whatd you say? I aint tellin you
You see the mix game is laced with riddles
It aint moaney, its mix in the middle
In walked my ex named wendy
She got a fresh dooney bag
cause shes tired of fendi
Oooh, could a brother be busted
Because wendy trusted, me?
An ah told a litl lie n
Said I was a loyal guy
Wendy got mad and she wants to dis me
In kansas city
Wendy starts to groovin
Hands on her hips and her hair starts movin
She said the mixalot game is phony
Just cause I said Im runnin girls like ponies
But talkin that stuff is my occupation
Thats how I got this reputation

A rappers reputation, got a rappers reputation
Bring it on down. a rappers reputation, bring it back
A rappers reputation, thats what I got. a rappers
Reputation, peace.