Pimpin Aint No Illusion

UGK

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    [Pimp C:]
    (Uh, Uh) One time for yo' muthafuckin'...(whuut)
    Back, xxxxx (uh)...Kool Ace (whuut), UGK...(huh)

    [Chorus: Pimp C]
    Pimpin' ain't no illusion,
    And pimpin' ain't never died.
    Mo' pimps was on that heroin
    And yo' pimp tripped out on that fry.
    The dikes done came through
    And straight threw off all the game;
    Got all these hoes thinkin'
    They could manage they own change.

    [Kool Ace:]
    But it ain't no illusion,
    I know...you all have witnessed
    He rollin' in my Caady mo'
    Wit' fly bitches,
    Makin' ole deals: Now, ho (huh, huh)
    Ain't Bob Barker
    But I'm caught up in this game
    Mo' like...Peter Parker.
    P-I-M-P, take the P's that I am.
    I want you payin' hoes in my army
    Like...uh...Uncle Sam,
    And we gon' jam...
    I'm talkin' 'bout the world greatest show
    I know my xxxx is extreme
    But I'm all about them does.
    When I'm steppin' on the scene
    Be there four deep...hella clan
    My reality is your favorite dream
    (Stop that shit, daddy...)
    Best believe Kool Ace gon' keep it real.
    Pimp C & Bun B to testify for the ear
    Excuse me, y'all, but this about Southern shit.
    Now, tell me can you...uh...feel this, bitch?
    We givin' 'em brain contusions...
    Pimp C, what's the conclusion?

    [Pimp C:]
    Pimpin' ain't no illusion...

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    [Chorus: x2]

    [Pimp C:]
    Pimpin' ain't dead...nigga, it just began
    (How the xxxx you know Sweet Jones?)
    My hoes still out there sellin' ass.
    Yo' xxxxx is out of pocket,
    'Cause yo' pimpin' was scary;
    Real hoes gon' front on a simp
    But she gon' do it for daddy.
    Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie;
    But, boy, my xxxxxxx know the difference
    Between real pimpin' and movies
    It's the difference between real leather
    And that xxxx at yo' house.
    I don't know what y'all doin' up there,
    But we really pimpin' in the South.
    Every since I was 17,
    I been stackin' my green:
    Went for servin' rocks to fiends,
    And rockin' club full a teens.
    Went from bumpin' Screw in Houston,
    Sippin' promythazine,
    To ridin' in a 8 600 with sheath,
    To smokin' on sticky green.
    I'm still Pimp C, bitch
    I'm claimin' P.A., they hate us;
    But, me and Kool Ace rollin' a Lexus
    Sittin' on all gold Daytons.
    Bitch, take a look around
    Those hoes steady choosin'.
    This is the conclusion: pimpin' ain't no illusion.

    [Chorus: x2]

    Bun B:
    If you got any love fo' that broad you wit'
    Nigga, move her 'fore you lose her,
    'Cause a beggar ain't a muthafuckin' chooser.
    Third leg is a xxxxx abuser, infamous
    In cities where big pimpin' is my hoes clean.
    No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis
    Come catch a wif a this...
    Damn, can't you taste it?
    Now yo' money's up in smoke
    Like you freebased it.
    Now xxxxx replaced it
    Wit' a sexual favor
    But don't get mad at real pimpin', nigga
    Check yo' behavior...and savor
    The aroma from Promona to Tacoma;
    Got my pimpin' diploma for bein' a Cadillac chromer.
    Fuck a Sonoma...
    I'm on a mission for Benzes
    Knowin' 'xactly where my ends is, ballin' relentless.
    And then my friends is
    Slappin' niggas with glass chins
    It's funny...sendin' tricks home
    Broke and defenseless; and, ever since this
    Boy been pimpin' the pen,
    I promise never to ever leave home
    Without my pimpin' again...that's why...

    [Chorus: x2]

    Too $hort:
    You know, I got to tell you players what I'm talkin' about:
    My xxxxx got bold opened a bank account.
    When I found the xxxxx checkbook,
    I didn't get mad
    'Cause there was no doubt that I be gettin' the cash.
    I broke it down to her,
    She gave me the dough;
    Do you remember what you was
    Before I made you a ho?
    You was a broke bitch,
    You couldn't even smoke shit,
    Couldn't stay fo-cused,
    And, don't forget it, bitch...
    Yo' whole life changed the day you met me.
    Now you think you need a bank account,
    Baby, I can't see
    You managin' this money...it's too much.
    All you do is look good...
    And then you fuck.
    Git my money, git yo' money
    It's all the same.
    The xxxx ain't even funny when you talk about this game.
    They call me Too $hort, baby
    I'm still in it.
    Ain't no camouflage, nuttin' but this real pimpin'...beeyatch.

    [Chorus: x3]
    ...pimpin' ain't no illusion

    Información de la canción

    Composición: T. Shaw, Chad Butler y B. Fleming

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