lirik lagu pimpton - little darrell
[pimpton]
yo i could get wild like a crocodile
she wearin’ my name cuz she love my style
a hundred white girls in a single file
tryin’ ta get touched and they all know how
it’s about to go down
i’m bout to go ham
turn my stereo up cuz my blast on jam
girl, you could get stuck like a suction cup
with your bean bag t-tties and your big ol’ b-tt
i’m talking bout…
[hook]
let me catch my breath like, (yeah)
let my smoke my best like, (yeah)
now let me count my stack (yeah x2)
if i gave you an inch better bring that sh-t back, like
(shorty work her back like a bull in a china shop)
pullin’ on rags
(shorty work her back like a bull in a china shop)
i do it so good had to put it on wax
(shorty work her back like a bull in a china shop)
she a movie star and i like it like that
(shorty work her back like a bull in a china shop)
when the jakes come around, boy you know where it’s at…
[pimpton]
i come through like a ufo when it hovers
and bang wu tang in the shudders
put down the nine just to hit him with the putter
the sucka never even told his mother that he loved her
bread for the b-tter and pity for the fool
he should have known better than to f-ck with crown jewels
i’m chillin’ with the k!lla whale, look like shamu
ya head get wet and we ain’t talkin’ shampoo
we do like van doos
my favorite dance move
is when mj freeze tip toe down his shoes
but i ain’t come to dance i’m collectin’ my scrill
that’s why i f-cks with nicky, trill recognize trill
shoot for the k!ll
ride round hot box, tint, coupe de ville
i boot with the heel
so go on catch a foot up your -ss
have your sh-t lookin’ like “d-mn
i walked in got had ‘fore i sat down.”
hook
[andre nickatina]
cuz it’s a bolo mission
and i’m somthin’ like a chef in a crack kitchen
you keep frontin’ might find your whole back missin’
i’m vida blue when i do my all-star pitching
you could scream in my ear and i won’t listen
i don’t like you b-tch, you need ta quit trippin’
do ya time playboy n-gga, stop snitchin’
man it’s a sugar man, someone might say ta god
it’s like chris paul throwin’ blake griff a lob
or mac dre tellin’ hoes that it ain’t his job
i let the benz bust a b-tch and i straight mob
the homie said his new gun had a rubber handle
and he’ll love to blow you out like a roman candle
i stand alone in the rain like a lost lover
to reconnect with the homies like the ward brothers
man, it’s a gold thang
and i like to pick up a little ho change
and my style stand out like a gold chain
fillmoe in the buildin’, and it’s a go mayne
khan mecca and it really ain’t no thang
hook
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