Songtext That's what the pimpin there for Baby Bash

That's what the pimpin there for

(feat. Kat Williams (Money Mike), Suga Free)

[Kat Williams]
Ladies and gentlemen, this is your friendly
Pimp representative, Kat Williams, A.K.A. Money Motherfuckin' 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 fuck 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 whore, 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, "Bitch, you wouldn't told a nigga shit!"
You know you love her up
Actin' like it's hard G-14 classified
Man, all that bullshit should cover up
Holy Nickelodeon...
You wouldn't believe that this bitch used to be a fuckin' historian...
But that's what they get for love and shit
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 butter, 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 shit, out of buff niggas, fakin' a flex
We keep it A.O.B.
All on, baby
Y'all pay for puss, 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 fuckin' 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 lick
[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 shit
How you think them ugly cats get a beautiful bitch
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 hoe, to the track, in Iraq

[Repeat Chorus Four Times]