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Do or Die - Po Pimp lyrics
Featuring Tung Twista Johnny P] Chorus: Johnny P Do you wanna riiide? In the backseat of a Caddy Chop it up with Do or Die Do you wanna riiide? In the backseat of a Caddy Chop it up with Do or Die Verse One: Belo Seven double oh P.M. Fly low to them hoes in the B M Sippin Seagram chewin on a weed stem Touchin on my fo' fin Move it to the back so I can see who beepin this Po Pimp Spring to the phone with a slow limp In a trip that shitted with 3-1-2-7-6-2-10 Three line connection As the rest of them wanted affection Just bring the bead, we got the drinks you need And plus we strapped with two protections I put the phone in the hook, then I pause for a minute Cause I forgot where I met the hoe And the feeling I've forgotten if the hoes wanna snap I straight up check the hoe, really doe To the crib Chorus Verse Two: AK-47, Belo Seven deuce five, the ride the point to spot the live hoes Three miles per hour Like we runnin up on some ri-vals Never to deny though, these bitches look fly 'Lo Introduce myself A to the motherfuckin K finna recognize Then I loose myself juice myself As you take one pull, uhh, pass it to the left and umm Self-centered niggaz'll take two pulls cuz they thinkin about samplin umm P-I, M-P, ology, but logically We learnin these hoes biology, and obviously, well... Mmm, ain't this some shit, pull up in the C-A D-I, Double-L, with ah A-C, A-C hoes They peep those, P-I, M-P, and they think that automatically Cause he's a pimp, he gotta be, full of that M-O, N-E, but why? Cause nigga be sportin nice cars and fancy clothes Fresh jewels Girbaud flexin one five oh (chop chop) Chop up that paper hoe, chop up that paper hoe Watch where your lips go, caress my tip slow To the tempo, instrumental Real simple when you fuckin with a pimp doe Get involved in the backseat Let's have me in the cab betcha mess with ya young ass Smokin on that finest grass Never miss what you never had, at last P-I, M-P, ology, but logically We learnin these hoes biology, and obviously, well... Chorus Verse Three: Tung Twista Well a motherfucker might be broke and shit and then collecting no dough from tips But I be spittin mo' game than a mouthful of poker chips to get them hoes with the Oprah lips and the provokin hips and never gotta tell her many lies I been lookin in the city skies, get up in the kitty's thighs cause I'm blessed with a look of innocence, good sex peanut butter complex and some pretty eyes Pity cries on my strategy side, yo when outta me gotta be right, that'd be the flatter me right But if the head the bonk c'mon suck a nigga dick Members of my click, wanna see what that'd be like I know you wanna try it out, to the rhythm of a high hat Don't be bogus and deny that I done got a hold of dem my fellas on the train while she lie back, now motherfucker can you buy that? Where your ride at? On the passenger side of your hoe tryin ta come up on another G The broad all up under me tryin ta smother me Lookin love-ly while I roll another bead, suddenly She learned that I don't deal with emotions But when we in the room she rubbin me with lotion Comin like an ocean coastin have a cig thinking me and Do or Die dig drinkin love potion The word that was never said Twisted be givin women dick in the bed, until they sick in the head And if I ever leave whoever dead They ain't trickin the Feds or spittin game but it's chicken and bread Kickin them legs in the air like a playa do Then belittle in a day or two After words I'ma slay a crew Now that's some pimp type shit that B-Low and AK'll do Wearing gray and blue If a hoe wanna holler then you a playa if you hit them ends and get the dividends But you a pimp if you can get the same hoe to wanna freak your friends Cause I studied P-I, M-P, ology, but logically Be learnin these hoes biology, obviously, well... Chorus |
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