[Chorus: The Internet & Left Brain] I was rollin through the ghetto In my Lincoln Continental Blowin kush smoke out the window What you think my windows tint fo'?
[Mike G] Yo, uhh, yo It go drastic, measures in a tale so tragic Follow formula six-four as you trail my tracks Bitch, there's nothin more pleasant than gettin paid on point Pretty bitches with gold grills just to hold my joints I make 'em plead - as the director says scene New words, don't say my name, I just make 'em say King Four rings on that muh'fuckin woodgrain wheel Raw, I'm Johnny Law, but you should check my appeal Once upon a time not too far back There was a young Wolf Pack that grew up in a 'llac Syd left King, and Ace played Black Jack Bitches be talkin shit that's how you end up smacked I'm after chips and if we eatin then I'm after your bitch Ain't no cost, just pimpin player you should be after the risk We winnin like there ain't no other way to play the game All I hang around is zeroes figure my checks should look the same
[Chorus]
[Mike G] Yo, got the money, fuck the bitches Ain't gotta do it for long, I'm just tryin to get you on Might not make sense, but I'm just a pimp bitch (Hey!)
