歌曲 | Pimpin' Ain't No Illusion |
歌手 | UGK |
专辑 | Dirty Money |
作曲 : Butler, Fleming, Freeman, Shaw | |
[Pimp C:] (Uh, Uh) | |
One time for yo' muthafuckin'...(whuut) | |
Back, bitch (uh)... | |
Kool Ace (whuut), | |
UGK...(huh) [Chorus: Pimp C] | |
Pimpin' ain't no illusion, | |
And pimpin' ain't never died. | |
Mo' pimps was on that heroin | |
And yo' pimp tripped out on that fry. | |
The dikes done came through | |
And straight threw off all the game; | |
Got all these hoes thinkin' | |
They could manage they own change. [Kool Ace:] | |
But it ain't no illusion, | |
I know...you all have witnessed | |
He rollin' in my | |
Caady mo' | |
Wit' fly bitches, | |
Makin' ole deals: | |
Now, ho (huh, huh) | |
Ain't Bob | |
Barker But | |
I'm caught up in this game | |
Mo' like... | |
Peter Parker. | |
P-I-M-P, take the | |
P's that I am. | |
I want you payin' hoes in my army | |
Like...uh... | |
Uncle Sam, | |
And we gon' jam... | |
I'm talkin' 'bout the world greatest show | |
I know my shit is extreme | |
But I'm all about them does. | |
When I'm steppin' on the scene | |
Be there four deep...hella clan | |
My reality is your favorite dream (Stop that shit, daddy...) | |
Best believe | |
Kool Ace gon' keep it real. | |
Pimp C & Bun | |
B to testify for the ear | |
Excuse me, y'all, but this about | |
Southern shit. | |
Now, tell me can you...uh...feel this, bitch? | |
We givin' 'em brain contusions... | |
Pimp C, what's the conclusion? [Pimp C:] | |
Pimpin' ain't no illusion... [Chorus: x2] [Pimp C:] | |
Pimpin' ain't dead...nigga, it just began (How the fuck you know Sweet Jones?) | |
My hoes still out there sellin' ass. | |
Yo' bitch is out of pocket, ' | |
Cause yo' pimpin' was scary; | |
Real hoes gon' front on a simp | |
But she gon' do it for daddy. | |
Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie; | |
But, boy, my bitches know the difference | |
Between real pimpin' and movies | |
It's the difference between real leather | |
And that shit at yo' house. | |
I don't know what y'all doin' up there, | |
But we really pimpin' in the | |
South. Every since | |
I was 17, | |
I been stackin' my green: | |
Went for servin' rocks to fiends, | |
And rockin' club full a teens. | |
Went from bumpin' | |
Screw in Houston, | |
Sippin' promythazine, | |
To ridin' in a 8 600 with sheath, | |
To smokin' on sticky green. | |
I'm still | |
Pimp C, bitch | |
I'm claimin' | |
P.A., they hate us; | |
But, me and | |
Kool Ace rollin' a | |
Lexus Sittin' on all gold | |
Daytons. Bitch, take a look around | |
Those hoes steady choosin'. | |
This is the conclusion: pimpin' ain't no illusion. [Chorus: x2] | |
Bun B: If you got any love fo' that broad you wit' | |
Nigga, move her 'fore you lose her, ' | |
Cause a beggar ain't a muthafuckin' chooser. | |
Third leg is a bitch abuser, infamous | |
In cities where big pimpin' is my hoes clean. | |
No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis | |
Come catch a wif a this... | |
Damn, can't you taste it? | |
Now yo' money's up in smoke | |
Like you freebased it. | |
Now bitch replaced it | |
Wit' a sexual favor | |
But don't get mad at real pimpin', nigga | |
Check yo' behavior...and savor | |
The aroma from | |
Promona to | |
Tacoma; Got my pimpin' diploma for bein' a | |
Cadillac chromer. | |
Fuck a Sonoma... | |
I'm on a mission for | |
Benzes Knowin' 'xactly where my ends is, ballin' relentless. | |
And then my friends is | |
Slappin' niggas with glass chins | |
It's funny...sendin' tricks home | |
Broke and defenseless; and, ever since this | |
Boy been pimpin' the pen, | |
I promise never to ever leave home | |
Without my pimpin' again...that's why... [Chorus: x2] [Too $hort:] | |
You know, | |
I got to tell you players what | |
I'm talkin' about: | |
My bitch got bold opened a bank account. | |
When I found the bitch checkbook, | |
I didn't get mad ' | |
Cause there was no doubt that | |
I be gettin' the cash. | |
I broke it down to her, | |
She gave me the dough; | |
Do you remember what you was | |
Before I made you a ho? | |
You was a broke bitch, | |
You couldn't even smoke shit, | |
Couldn't stay fo-cused, | |
And, don't forget it, bitch... | |
Yo' whole life changed the day you met me. | |
Now you think you need a bank account, | |
Baby, I can't see | |
You managin' this money...it's too much. | |
All you do is look good... | |
And then you fuck. | |
Git my money, git yo' money | |
It's all the same. | |
The shit ain't even funny when you talk about this game. | |
They call me | |
Too $hort, baby | |
I'm still in it. | |
Ain't no camouflage, nuttin' but this real pimpin'...beeyatch. [Chorus: x3] ...pimpin' ain't no illusion |
zuò qǔ : Butler, Fleming, Freeman, Shaw | |
Pimp C: Uh, Uh | |
One time for yo' muthafuckin'... whuut | |
Back, bitch uh... | |
Kool Ace whuut, | |
UGK... huh Chorus: Pimp C | |
Pimpin' ain' t no illusion, | |
And pimpin' ain' t never died. | |
Mo' pimps was on that heroin | |
And yo' pimp tripped out on that fry. | |
The dikes done came through | |
And straight threw off all the game | |
Got all these hoes thinkin' | |
They could manage they own change. Kool Ace: | |
But it ain' t no illusion, | |
I know... you all have witnessed | |
He rollin' in my | |
Caady mo' | |
Wit' fly bitches, | |
Makin' ole deals: | |
Now, ho huh, huh | |
Ain' t Bob | |
Barker But | |
I' m caught up in this game | |
Mo' like... | |
Peter Parker. | |
PIMP, take the | |
P' s that I am. | |
I want you payin' hoes in my army | |
Like... uh... | |
Uncle Sam, | |
And we gon' jam... | |
I' m talkin' ' bout the world greatest show | |
I know my shit is extreme | |
But I' m all about them does. | |
When I' m steppin' on the scene | |
Be there four deep... hella clan | |
My reality is your favorite dream Stop that shit, daddy... | |
Best believe | |
Kool Ace gon' keep it real. | |
Pimp C Bun | |
B to testify for the ear | |
Excuse me, y' all, but this about | |
Southern shit. | |
Now, tell me can you... uh... feel this, bitch? | |
We givin' ' em brain contusions... | |
Pimp C, what' s the conclusion? Pimp C: | |
Pimpin' ain' t no illusion... Chorus: x2 Pimp C: | |
Pimpin' ain' t dead... nigga, it just began How the fuck you know Sweet Jones? | |
My hoes still out there sellin' ass. | |
Yo' bitch is out of pocket, ' | |
Cause yo' pimpin' was scary | |
Real hoes gon' front on a simp | |
But she gon' do it for daddy. | |
Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie | |
But, boy, my bitches know the difference | |
Between real pimpin' and movies | |
It' s the difference between real leather | |
And that shit at yo' house. | |
I don' t know what y' all doin' up there, | |
But we really pimpin' in the | |
South. Every since | |
I was 17, | |
I been stackin' my green: | |
Went for servin' rocks to fiends, | |
And rockin' club full a teens. | |
Went from bumpin' | |
Screw in Houston, | |
Sippin' promythazine, | |
To ridin' in a 8 600 with sheath, | |
To smokin' on sticky green. | |
I' m still | |
Pimp C, bitch | |
I' m claimin' | |
P. A., they hate us | |
But, me and | |
Kool Ace rollin' a | |
Lexus Sittin' on all gold | |
Daytons. Bitch, take a look around | |
Those hoes steady choosin'. | |
This is the conclusion: pimpin' ain' t no illusion. Chorus: x2 | |
Bun B: If you got any love fo' that broad you wit' | |
Nigga, move her ' fore you lose her, ' | |
Cause a beggar ain' t a muthafuckin' chooser. | |
Third leg is a bitch abuser, infamous | |
In cities where big pimpin' is my hoes clean. | |
No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis | |
Come catch a wif a this... | |
Damn, can' t you taste it? | |
Now yo' money' s up in smoke | |
Like you freebased it. | |
Now bitch replaced it | |
Wit' a sexual favor | |
But don' t get mad at real pimpin', nigga | |
Check yo' behavior... and savor | |
The aroma from | |
Promona to | |
Tacoma Got my pimpin' diploma for bein' a | |
Cadillac chromer. | |
Fuck a Sonoma... | |
I' m on a mission for | |
Benzes Knowin' ' xactly where my ends is, ballin' relentless. | |
And then my friends is | |
Slappin' niggas with glass chins | |
It' s funny... sendin' tricks home | |
Broke and defenseless and, ever since this | |
Boy been pimpin' the pen, | |
I promise never to ever leave home | |
Without my pimpin' again... that' s why... Chorus: x2 Too hort: | |
You know, | |
I got to tell you players what | |
I' m talkin' about: | |
My bitch got bold opened a bank account. | |
When I found the bitch checkbook, | |
I didn' t get mad ' | |
Cause there was no doubt that | |
I be gettin' the cash. | |
I broke it down to her, | |
She gave me the dough | |
Do you remember what you was | |
Before I made you a ho? | |
You was a broke bitch, | |
You couldn' t even smoke shit, | |
Couldn' t stay focused, | |
And, don' t forget it, bitch... | |
Yo' whole life changed the day you met me. | |
Now you think you need a bank account, | |
Baby, I can' t see | |
You managin' this money... it' s too much. | |
All you do is look good... | |
And then you fuck. | |
Git my money, git yo' money | |
It' s all the same. | |
The shit ain' t even funny when you talk about this game. | |
They call me | |
Too hort, baby | |
I' m still in it. | |
Ain' t no camouflage, nuttin' but this real pimpin'... beeyatch. Chorus: x3 ... pimpin' ain' t no illusion |