Kat Williams (Money Mike) - 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**in' 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** 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 s**-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 who*e, 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**h, you wouldn't told a n***a sh**!" You know you love her up Actin' like it's hard G-14 cla**ified Man, all that bullsh** should cover up Holy Nickelodeon... You wouldn't believe that this b**h used to be a f**in' historian... But that's what they get for love and sh** 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 bu*ter, 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**, out of buff n***as, 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 f**in' 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 s** 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 sh** How you think them ugly cats get a beautiful b**h 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