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:: 50 Cent [chorus] I donīt know what you heard about me But a bitch canīt get a dollar out of me No Cadillac, no perms, you canīt see That Iīm a mother fucking P-I-M-P [repeat] Now shorty, she in the club, she dancing for dollars She got a thing for that Gucci, and Fendi, and tha Prada That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her cause they wanna I spit a little good thing we're rappin' G man, and my good thing we're rappin' game got her A hour later, good thing we're rappin' have that ass up in the Ramada Them trick niggas in her ear saying they think about her I got the bitch by the bar trying to get a drink up out her She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk She from the country, think she like me cause Iīm from New York? I ainīt that nigga trying to holla cause I want some head Iīm that nigga trying to holla cause I want some bread I could care less how she perform when she in the bed Bitch hit that track, catch a date, and come and pay the kid Look baby this is simple, you canīt see?
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