Bo$$ Hoggin'

I said the bitch had a wild toenail nigga
Bitch pulled up in a Trans-Am tellin me to get in though
Bitch my dick is too big for that, so I rode shotgun
I hung my balls out the window
Uh-huh
Dick out the sunroof
Yeah?
Gettin head from a ho with one tooth, no bitin allowed
YEAH~!
Yo Celph stop shapin up your hairline man
Get in the fuckin booth already
We Bo$$ Hoggin' motherfuckers!
Yo, I need a bitch that like to fuck wearin combat boots
Never palm the gun loose, I’m holdin it tight when I shoot
And I’m responsible, for every nigga dead in your crew
Fuck a 40 ounce, you’ll be dumpin out whole kegs of brew
A couple eggs is loose, puttin my head in a noose
See me in hell with a long tail and a red suit
These feds recruit soldiers to crib my raps
You better get back, I’m leavin liquid spillin out your six-pack
Never pay for pussy, never shop at the Gap
And I even get the cock with a slap, or shot with a gat
Call me a genius, with anti-personnel landmines
M-18's, block chargers and sheet explosive expertise
Fuckin a 40-year-old mom that got fo' kids
You put your album up on eBay and got no bids
Even when I sleepwalk it’s drama I get into
Wakin up with a fuckin O.J. glove and a sharp ginsu
Take a broad to Long John Silvers rockin Versace bibs
One leg up, put her in the crane like Karate Kid
DJ’s treat your vinyl like wax on, wax off
I want a ho to splack on when I whack off
Gats with numbers scratched off
Crimes can’t count if they can’t read 'em jackoff
Bust a cap off, that’ll blow your cap off
Faggots needs protection, hope they pass the right amendment
Cause your crew’s known to handle more nuts than a flight attendant
We don’t believe in holidays
Don’t pay for dates
Hell no we don’t dance
Or put on a pair of skates
Don’t open doors for sluts
We count paper
Rob hip-hop and come back for more later
Hoes say I’m triflin
Niggas say I’m trouble
Lay pipe to your wife
And give her a milk muzzle
Nuts all over yo' chin and shit
I ain’t no animal lover, but I’m a dog for real
I make a coat out of your parakeet
And put your fish on my Foreman Grill, test my cologne on your cat
Peter hates me, I’m the Tom Jones of rap
Overseas they ask when I’m gon' tour
I’d love to but airplanes can’t rise with my dick on board
And I don’t care for fruit but I’ll spend ten dollars on a date
Before I spend ten dollars on a date, GET REAL
The chance of hoes hoggin my wealth
Is lookin slim as Ally McBeal starvin herself
You the type to let her boss you, spendin all your paper
You take orders from a Bird, like an Indiana Pacer
My manners is like your wife’s ass (non-existant)
And when I ask your sister for a date it’s no different
I’ll be like — bitch, come over, let me smear your makeup
And kick you out my house before my grandmomma wake up
My basslines are sharper than Celph Titled’s shaver
(Buy me somethin from the bar) Get the fuck outta my face slut!
Don’t you realize that, everyday I wake
And I pump Too $hort 'til I pop the fuckin tape (beotch!)
Yep I lack etiquette, ho get a job
But if you diabetic deez nuts is low carb
Best producer on the mic I said it
I’m «Ego Trippin'» on the +Next Plateau+
Like an Ultramagnetic record
Yeah!
Ain’t it right though?
Puttin these Aloe & Lanolin
Soul Train scramble board ass niggas
And ratchetmouth, Edith Bunker-ass bitches
Pimporarily, out of service, ho!
Yeah, but check this out though
Either you pimpin and gangsta, or you gangsta and pimpin
Which came first, the chicken & the egg or the egg & the chicken
It don’t matter though either or, we gettin that yaper
2005, faggot-ass muh’fuckers