Prime Minister Pete Nice - Ho lyrics

[Pete Nice] Pica**o the easel crusty crusty weasel I shiggedy-shot, I shiggedy-shot the needle for the measels If the record company's a pimp, you're a cheap s*ut Pump the loot illzno, till you bust a big nut Flex if you wanna, wanna flex If you think you got the wrecks, yo We be bustin necks, so Daddy, Daddy Rich, Pete, Pete Nice the master Father knows best, he knows best, you little ba*tard Will he, will he plug ya and play ya like a fiddle Or meddle just a little like the monkey in the middle? It's time to fill the donut, but yo, I won't seduce ya Word, I whip your a** from the Bronx to Tuscalusa The big, big, big beat catcher need a big rat Riggedy-rat ba*tard, can I get a soul clap? A-clap, clap on, yo, a-clap, clap off one Step to the rear if your material's the soft one Yo, you got the drama cla** Yo, you hit the drama fast I vic your stash, your flag is wavin half-mast Pete Nice, Daddy Rich, the agony defeat (Slammed the child on the hard concrete) (To the ladies screamin aw The brothers yellin ho) (Repeat 8x) The riggy-riggin slippin, not Scottie Pippen The drippin jheri curls like Steve Miller slippin To the future, a moocher named Minnie vicked my ducats Schmock as a schmock, I got your girl in a bucket The primo, the celo, the 125th street Beating up the herbs with the Nikes on my two feet My head's up, I'm feds up, I'm fillin you with the diesel If it ain't the legal, the scenario's illegal So hey, Mr. Kincaid, when are we gonna get paid? Punch you in the a**, sip the forties in the shade You see, I'm real like the bu*ts that ain't the silly-silicony Homie don't play with the booty if it's bony I push the rhymes like the fiendish Dick Dastardly What's my fee? 10 g's cash, please Hit the pawn shop with the rings, and you're hikin it A tree grew in Brooklyn, and Dad Richie chopped it If you got beef, get the grill and the charcoal Hold it, now hit it now, cause yo, I know you got no (soul) (To the ladies screamin aw The brothers yellin ho) (Repeat 8x) Puffin, swigin, friggin-friggin A-1 Top of the heap, king of the hill, steppin it up to get some Now what I know because I freak, I freak the flow Hit you with the potent if you wanna, wanna throw I'm Peety Weety Wheatstraw, the X watching Hee-Haw I see-saw the open sesame is on a trap door Peter Piper, picture pocket full of presidents New York, New York, a hell of a town, yo, I'm a resident If you wanna get me, I'm afraid you better shoot me I'll do ya my way - bababui Minister the Prime one, a bu*ter like the parkay Hey, hey, the Constipated Monkeys on a parlay Switchin up the picture like the Doctor Gooden packin heat Sweet Daddy Cream it ain't the _Krush Groove_ or _Beat Street_ Rock, rock the body rock, the truer to the hip-hop Drop, drop a j**el, and never singin for the pop (To the ladies screamin aw The brothers yellin ho) (Repeat 8x)