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Artist: Pimp C f/ Smoke D, Vicious
Album:  Pimpalation
Song:   I Don't Fuck Wit U
Typed by:

[Pimp C]
Yeah, E. Vicious y'knalmtalkinbout?
Sweet Jones, Tony Snow
All you ole bitch ass niggaz on that ole goofy section of the newspaper
Knalmtalkinbout? (Mr. Magoo ass niggaz)
All that ole comedy shit, that ole fantasy island shit, knalmtalkinbout?
(Bugs Bunny ass niggaz) Say man, missed me with that bullshit
Hold up...

[Hook] + (Pimp C)
Round here runnin ya mouth (runnin ya mouth)
Fuck around and hit that nerve, I put a gun in ya mouth (BLAH)
Ya dead... and can't believe how you lied on me (uh)
But you'se a simp so I'ma let it slide homey (uh)
It's outta control, the game is cold
Thought he was down, come to find out the nigga's a hoe, a hoe (nigga's a hoe)
Just ain't keepin it true, wonderin why I don't fuck wit'chu

[Pimp C]
Uh, talkin that big dick shit
You a hoe, I said it (I said it), what chu gon' do about it bitch? (bitch!)
Uh, talkin to the laws (laws)
No balls just sugar in ya drawers (drawers)
If you don't like me, kill me (uh)
I'm only dyin one time, nigga feel me (uh)
Cowards die a thousand deaths
Born to die but you can't take away my rep (my rep, my rep)
And I ain't goin no time soon
Gotta broad on the plane, pussy full of balloons
Ain't nothin happenin on some bamboo monkey shit (uh)
Keep my name outcha mouth, nigga you counterfeit (uh)


[Verse Two]
I walk around this motherfucker, trippin on these weak niggaz
Pullin all this hoe shit, callin themselves street niggaz
Talkin down, wishing the worse and straight hating on me
Praying that I fall off, bitches keep waitin on it
I ain't got no friends, niggaz take it how ya hear it
Where was y'all for the bid? I did five fuckin years!
While the chill turned to lab dap, after all that I took back
Never go broke again, bitch I know how to cook crack
Learned to stack a dollar, hold the power in a black Impala
Try to swerve and hit the curb and watch the crackers follow
Bitch nigga got my name in his mouth
We go pistols when we pissed, that's how we play in the South (play in the South)


[Verse Three]
Bitch I'ma triple O.G., superhood grown, heavyweight (heavyweight)
I'm no magician but my magic tricks will make you levitate
Round of applause for the plastic pieces
Right now the clip up in nickels in solemn night releases
Aye, aye.. no joking or playin, I'm sayin we sprayin for real
Straight out the gate, no hesitation bitch I'm bustin my steel
The shit is helter-skelter
And you gon' need Jesus Christ, a gimmick, plus a fall-out shelter
We cast wet toiletries upon bitch ass snakes
For cheesecakes, the dirty rats gon' put ya tongue on a plate
Diarrhea mouth niggaz, 1-800-IMA-TELL
Fuck around wit'em, you gon' be dead or in jail (jail)


[Pimp C] 
Say this Young Pimp y'knalmtalkinbout?
Say Mike Dean, go and draft some  of that vinyl for the South knalmtalkinbout?
Me and Slim Thug finna ride on out on these bitch ass niggaz! 
Hold up... {*echoes*}

[Slim Thug]
Smoke somethin, bitch! {*starts laughing*}