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She got lyrics a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her cause they wanna I spit a little G man, and my game got her A hour later, have that ass up in the Ramada Them trick lyrics niggas in her lyrics 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 I'm from New York I ain't that nigga trying to holla cause I want some head I'm 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 can't see You fucking with me, you fucking with a P-I-M-P (Chorus) (Verse 2) I'm bout my money you see, girl you can holla at me If you fucking with me, I'm a P-I-M-P Not what you see on TV, no Cadillac, no greasy Head full of hair, bitch I'm a P-I-M-P Come get money with me, if you curious to see how it feels to be with a P-I-M-P Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch TV From the backseat of my V, I'm a P-I-M-P Girl we could pop some champagne and we could have a ball We could |
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