Tech N9ne - Pop It For A Player (Remix) lyrics

[Intro] Psych Ward Druggies Hey yo, what up Fonzarelli? What's happening, Game? What up, Tech Nina? Hey yo, Bowers! Let's get it! (Positions, please) Remix! [Hook: Ryan Anthony] When it's time to hit, I don't ever miss First string n***a, I don't ever see the bench They focused on the swish, it's all in the wrist I don't give a puck, I don't ever slip Pop it for a player! (8x) [Verse 1: E-40] Goodness Little momma over there popping it to the fullest (What she doing?) Over there, cutting up Making her presence felt, got a million-dollar bu*t Double-D cup, silver-dollar nipples Poke out through her bra like two missiles Jaw-dropping, astonishing, legal tender, a winner I wonder how many drinks it's gon' take to get to the center How many blunts to enter? She surrender and let me smack Doing this one like a lumberjack, penetrate from the back Get my rocks off like I slang crack, lifestyles Ran through a whole pack, off of that Cognac I'm a maniac, my dick don't know how to act She the cheerleader and I'm the quarterback I'mma mack and she do whatever I say to her Now let me see you pop it for a player [Hook] [Verse 2: Game] Molly? Never met her, marijuana better Chick never sweat her, 'less she got all my time for a Sweater, it's cold outside, it's cold outside, pull up a Hard-top phantom, leave them froze outside Versace bomber for whenever wind blows outside Chronic smoking the air, that gra** getting mowed outside I got a Canon, yup, I got a cannon No bullets, like Eli, she got that bronco like Peyton Manning, so it Makes perfect sense when you see us with Louis duffels Pitbull on my waist, I can't stay out of trouble My name ring bells (bells) Ask Kim, ask Chanel (ask Chanel) Ask Keisha, ask Michelle, my nickname five-star Hotel, presidential suite, p**y swell n***a sweat, you scared, I can tell Pop shots then hop in that V-12 'cuz [Hook] [Verse 3: Tech N9ne] Chyeah, I'm a playa, I'm a playa 'Cuz every girl I meet, she end up begging me to spray her Insides, them eyes, opposite of in a prayer She know my cake is sittin' higher than the Himalayas Yahtzee! Popping that poonanny for Papi Take my tally and top me, bouncing booty for broccoli? White b**h, but she like her men like her coffee? Awfully thick, I got whiskey dick, I'm saucy Always ready to jump down on a b**h, turn Around, I'mma take her down pound on a (b**h) We kixin' it, acting like we don't see y'all Bring the drama, whatever they 'gon do (f** 'em), we ball Strange Music in this b**h, we going all out Take the b**hes to the crib and get em sprawled out All the haters and naysayers, k**ing y'all doubt Yes, we got your lady giving all mouth [Hook] [Verse 4: Ryan Bowers] Straight to the gas, no brakes, got a bad one on my plate Don't wanna be cuffed up, show no love, just f** them in the face Coming through ripping and breaking a b**h, I'm MVP, you made for the bench I came up now, but I bet you "pssh", your girl want that banana split now Okay, okay, Druggies in this bi-yatch Slobbing down my dick she say she got no gag reflex Back it up, reverse, she rocking my T-shirt, too many hoes, I'm like the broke Justin Bieber Straight up, we about to be all paid I swear, I give Miley them wrecking balls all day Used to put me on the bench, now it's all play Went from easy-bake p**y, now they all gourmet I get brain on lobotomy Now I date some chick, get more p**y than gynecology Coming up from the bottom, see, lowering the economy We the hottest sinners, motherf**er, no apology Bowers