East Coast Punks: 'Cash Is Big Pimpin'
You know Cash
Thugs em
F*cks em
Loves em
Leaves em
Cause he don't f*ckin' need em
Take em out the hood
Keep em looking good
But he don't f*ckin' feed em
First time they fuss he's breezin'
Talking 'bout
What's the reasons
He's a pimp in every sense of the word, bitch
Better trust than believe em
In a cut where he keep em
'Til he need to nut
'Til he need to be the gut
Standing, deep deep then he'll picking em up
Let em play with the dick in the truck
Many chicks wanna put Jigga fist in cup
Divorce him and split his bucks
Just be cause you got good head
he'll a break fair
So you can be livin' it up
Shit he, prospered nothin'
Y'all be frontin'
Me give my heart to a woman
Not for nothin'
Never happened
He be forever mackin'
Hardcore than assassins
He got no passion
He got no patience
And he hate waitin'
Ho get your ass in
And let's RI-I-I-I-I-IDE
Check em out now
RI-I-I-I-I-IDE
Yeah
And let's RI-I-I-I-I-IDE
Check em out now
RI-I-I-I-I-IDE
Yeah
Cash doin'
Big pimpin
Cash is spendin' cheese
Check em out now
Big pimpin'
On B.L.A.D.'s
He doin'
Big pimpin' down in Washington, DC
It's just that Jigga-dog
Pimp-C and B.U.N.B.
Check him out now
Digga it's the
Big southern rap pimp resario
Coming straight up out the black bar-io
Makes a Mil up off a sorry hoe
Then sit back and peep his scenario
Oops, hisbad, that's his scenario
No he can't f*ck with scary hoe
Now every time, every place, everywhere we go
Hoe's stop boy
And they say "There he go!"
Now these muthaf*ckas know we carry more heat than a
little bit
He don't pull it out over little shit
And if you catch a lick when he spit
Then it won't be a little hit
Go read a book you illiterate son of a bitches
He'll f*ck your vocab
Don't be surprised if your hoe's there out with him
And you see us coming down your slab
Digga ghetto fabulous so mad, you just can't take it
But digga if you hate now, then you ain't wild
Hell get your bitch butt naked
Just break it
You gotta pay like you ain't wet with two pairs of
clothes on
Now get your ass to the back
As he fast to the track Timbaland let me spit his pro's
on
Pump it up in the pro-zone
That's the track that we breaking these hoes on
Ain't the track that we flow's on
When the shit get's hot
Then the glock start poppin' like ozone
We keep hoes crunk like Trigga-dog
Who really don't get no bigger dog
Don't trip, let's flip, gettin' thrown on the flip
Then blow with the muthaf*ckin' Jigga-dog
Fool
Cash be
Big pimpin'
Cash spendin' cheese
Cash be
Big pimpin'
On B.L.A.D.'s
Cash be
Big pimpin' down in Washington, DC
It's just that Jigga-dog
Pimp-C and B.U.N.B.
Cause Cash be
Big pimpin'
Spendin' cheese
Cash be
Big pimpin'
On B.L.A.D.'s
Cash be
Big pimpin' down in Washington, DC
It's just that Jigga-dog
Pimp-C and B.U.N.B.
Digga
Uh
Smoking out
Throwing up
Keeping' liter in my cup
On my fork he love the wood
In his hood, they call it buck
Everybody wanna ball
Hale brawls at the mall
If he up
Watch him fall
Digga I can't f*ck with y'all
If he wasn't rapping baby
He would still be ridin' Mercedes