| I say gentlemen, ladies and bad ass out of control babies
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| It’s the return, of the bad ass perm pimp ya heard
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| Ya boy Fr-Fre-Fre-Fresh, Fre-Fre-Fre-Fre-Fresh
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| Fr-Fre-Fre-Fr-Fre-Fresh, ay
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| Bitch it’s the king of the trill, I’m top of the line
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| My paint is on drip, my rims is on shine
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| My butter seats reclined, cherry oak is grip
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| With swisha sweets to blow, and purple rain to sip
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| Now straight up off the rip, I’m letting boys know
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| I’ve never been a bitch, don’t plan to be a ho
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| So if you got some plex, you better keep it low
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| I bring it to your chest, soon as you hit the do'
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| You know me as a pro, respect me as a vet
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| I put it down befo', you ain’t seen nothing yet
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| My candy still glossy, my 4's still flossy
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| My rocks real icey, I’m looking kinda bossy
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| And feeling real saucy, it’s time to get it crunk
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| Now watch me pop it fly, just like I’m popping trunk
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| The leader of the pack, the star of the show
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| When Bun is in the building, you already know
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| I’m fresh (I'm fresh), brand new (brand new)
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| Everytime, that I come through
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| Ho look at my wrist (my wrist), my neck (my neck)
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| I just bust me a fat ass check, ho
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| I’m the man (I'm the man), he’s a whimp (he's a whimp)
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| If you wanna get ahead, get a pimp
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| Dope boy shoes, big rings
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| And only bad bitches say my name, ho
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| Bitch you wanna roll with a pimp, then have it on your mind
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| It’s all about this bread, so you gon have to grind
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| I gotta stay on shine, so you know what that means
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| You gotta hit that track, and bring me back that green
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| Cause daddy need his ice, and daddy need his chain
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| We gotta keep it G, so rec' him as the game
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| A ho need a pimp, a pimp need a ho
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| And tricks need us both, so let’s go get that do'
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| In case you didn’t know, I haven’t been told
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| But pussy on the corner, and it’s as good as sold
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| It’s tricks on the prowl, so stay out on that stroll
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| Cause I’mma sell your cot, and you gon sell your soul
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| My pimping way too cold, but it’s gon keep me warm
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| With minks up on my back, and rocks up in my charm
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| So bitch ring the alarm, and tell 'em I’ve arrived
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| The greatest ever born, that’s dead or alive
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| Bitch you know that Rap-A-Lot's the click, and UGK’s the fam
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| It’s middle fingers up, cause we don’t give a damn
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| Them Caddy do’s slam, that top gon drop
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| Them 4's gon tip, them blades gon chop
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| Them deuces get chunked, them screens gon fall
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| It’s Southside holding, so we gon ball
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| And slabs gon crawl, them 3's gon swang
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| That woman gon shine, that trunk go bang
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| And underground king, from P.A.T
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| I miss my dog, so free Pimp C
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| And I’mma hold it down, and rep for my team
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| To keep us on the map, so he can get that green
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| I work the triple beam, electronic scale
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| Even a baby bottle, whatever get that mail
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| So Mannie please tell em, the motherfucking real
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| Why Bun coulda be, so motherfucking trill |