Po Pimp lyrics

Artist  : Do Or Die 
Song : Po Pimp



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Po Pimp
Do Or Die/Tung Twista/Johnny
P
Album: Picture This


Chorus:
Johnny P

1-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 wheat 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
(rpt
1)

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're
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...
(rpt 1)

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 bow down?
Where your ride
at? On the passenger side of your hoes
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 be little in a day or two
After
words I'm 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...
(rpt
1)


Source: Kirill Grouchnikov
(c1272122
techst02.technion.ac.is)