"For Sale" lyrics

Yo, know what I'm talkin' 'bout
This the motherfuckin' Dirty South, homeboy
We done met over the West Coast, my nigga
And this one right here, homeboy
About them motherfuckin' hoes, my nigga
You know what I'm talkin' 'bout
'Cause me and my niggas, mayne
We done worked too motherfuckin' hard for these bitches
To act up and not bring in that paper, my nigga

On the West, I fuck with ski masks and hoodie niggas
In the South, I fuck with young Bloods and goodie niggas
Keep it crackin', throw Daytonas and Cadillac'n
Pimp a trick day to dark, Inglewood to College Park
So I set up shop, hit the club, crack a ho
Polite, he let her know her new job was sellin' blow
It's Mack-10, bitch, I need cash, never checks
Now take this bag of rocks and hit the fuckin' projects
By any means, hit the fiends, I need green, it's money-makin'
Now bring home the bacon if it take some ass-shakin'

I like a cute down-to-shoot up-front bitch
Stiletto pump bitch, a down-to-dump bitch
See, times like this, a nigga wish he had
A real thick bitch with a real thick ass
He settin' niggas up with that big, big grass
And givin' fine head for them thick, thick shafts
See, never playin' games, always ridin' with daddy
He the shawty ridin' dirty in that two-door Caddy
Middle finger out the window, 'cause she know who the boss
Weed trap on slat, fuckers want that raw
While that bitch steady trippin', sippin', peepin' my game
I'ma put that bitch to work and have her sackin' my thang
Point seven on the gram, my nigga, for two-five
If you want it, you can get it all goddamn night

Hey, do you love me, bitch?
(Yeah, daddy)
Is your love really true?
(Yes, it is)
Well, hell, what would you do?
(I'll sell that pussy)

I pull shit off like a stripper how I move the crowd
Hit and replace chickens like Destiny's Child
Two of 'em stay, two gotta go
Very next day, got me two more
Keep my chickens, bro, pushin' a Yugo
'Cause you know Technic's the boss like Hugo
And you know pull over, beat on blast
Like stop bumpin' your gums, get my cash
You get in my stash, I get in your ass
You get my money fast, 'cause it don't last

Hey, do you love me, bitch?
(Yeah, daddy)
Is your love really true?
(Yes, it is)
Well, hell, what would you do?
(I'll sell that pussy)

Simple and plain, Gipp step through about twelve Great Danes
Some love them hoes, already love them vogues
With the deep dish wires and fuck a tussle
Learned how to fight when I was in Russell
'Bout to straight gat in the ass with the Georgia Bulldog muscle
In the West, I got a Mack-10, pop shit for the strip club
And if you swing, we bring the mob, knock slob clean out the jawbone
Leave it alone, 'Lacs and Lincolns when we in the zone
Big Gipp, YoungBloodZ, Mack-10 here to flex it out
On this motherfuckin' paper route
So what you motherfuckers talkin' 'bout?

I say now, really, would you go and straight bust for me?
Or would you lay off in the cut and straight snitch on me?
Or would you slap a bitch several time in threes?
Or would you lame like a trick and give it up for free?
Or would you stay down, bitch, and give it all you got?
Or would you roll through the hood and serve it block to block?
Or if you real or not, it ain't no time to stop
It's YoungBloodZ and Mack-10, we 'bout to set up shop

Hey, do you love me, bitch?
(Yeah, daddy)
Is your love really true?
(Yes, it is)
Well, hell, what would you do?
(I'll sell that pussy)

Yeah, that West Coast straight gangsta shit
With this Down South real shit, you know what I'm sayin'?
The Hoo-Bangers with the Troop Slangers
And it don't stop, bitch
You don't get nothin' but a sack of game fuckin' with this
And that's it, that's all, ain't nothin' else