"Pimp Slapp'd" lyrics

W-Balls, it's your main man DJ E-Z Dick
About to unleash another one of those platinum plus hits
And the word is on the streets, and the word is the streets
We gon' go to a live remote, licking with my main man Mr Doggy Dogg

A day in the life, of a Rollin' 20 Crip
I'm just a stubborn type of fella with a head like a brick
Now just because I sip Moet, they say that I'm hopeless
But I don't give a fuck, so blame it on the loc'ness
Now this is how we do it when we checking the grip
Snoop Dogg is in this bitch, so don't even trip
I bust a funky composition that's as smooth as a prism
So check it while I kick off in this funky-ass rhythm
It's six dub, the phone is ringing off the deck
And it's some homies talking about I disrespected they set
Aw nah, Dogg ain't diss y'all
I got a couple relatives up off of Crenshaw
This is about me and Simon, not me and y'all
I got love for a bunch of real B-Dogs
Like K-Dub, Top Cat, B-Real, E-Rock, Boo-Lay Face
And the homie Heron rest in peace
Big Jay from Campanella Park
He used to blaze with his nephew after dark
On and on, rocking big Neckbone
Mausberg I had to put you on my song
It's so real, I had to show some love
Now back to this scrub, it ain't about Crip or Blood
It's about you bein' jealous of what I does
'Cause I does it the most, the king of the coast
In the paint playin' post - I back you down
Like Shaq-Daddy, and bust on ya out the new Caddy
And skirt up Wilshire Boulevard
I'm not Xzibit, you can't pull my ho card,
I fucked all your groupies
When you was doing time in Camp Snoopy
With the fags and snitches, no killers just bitches
And you was payin' niggas off with all my riches,
You so hardcore, why you ain't go to level fo'?
Oh I know (bitch!)
But I walk the mainline every time I go down
You can check my G Files I do it L.B.C. style
I got the word on you Simon
You need to just start rhymin'
'Cause you the biggest star on your label
And them other niggas just crumbs off my table
You're not able, to compete with the heat that I drop
And I still ain't been paid, for "1-8-7 on a cop"
I started yo' shit and I will end yo' shit
If you keep talking shit on Crip!

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (jealous ass nigga)
It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (don't get pimp slapped)
It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (jealous ass nigga)
It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (don't get pimp slapped)
Money, get it
Paper, I got it
I got to do it
Heaters, I keep 'em
Bitches, I got 'em
Run up, ya get done up, I stay one up
Money, I get it
Paper, I got it
Huh, I got to do it
Heaters, I keep 'em
Bitches, I got 'em
Run up, ya get done up, I stay one up

If I shoot you, I'll be brainless, and you'll be famous
And I'll be spending money out the anus
Your only gain is to try to get me to fall down to your level
Man you worse than them devils
Alotta niggas should've said it, fuck em
But I'ma say it for em, stop it, pop it, rewind and play it for em
This nigga's a bitch like his wife
Suge Knight's a bitch, and that's on my life
And I'ma let the whole world see
'Cause you fucked up the industry, and that's on me
We can go head up, nigga, set it up
Or we can do the other thing, I love to wet it up
Your rappers and artists, tell 'em, shut it up
'Cause I'll fuck every last one of 'em up, especially Kurupt (shh)
See that's my lil homeboy, so he knows what's up (what's up),
He better keep it Crippin', and slip his clip in
'Cause these niggas trippin', this is official business
Do the same way, leave no witnesses
This is that unexpected, misdirected, sprayed, covered and protected
Strip you butt naked, chicky-check-check-it
It's all to the good again
You can catch Snoopy D.O. double in the hood again (Eastside)
Spinning that real times, spitting that real shit
To make the whole world feel it (feel it)
So put the bacon in the skillet (hahaha), and try to peel it
'Cause Doggystyle Records is the realest, nigga

It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (jealous ass nigga)
It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (don't get pimp slapped)
It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (jealous ass nigga)
It all boils down to the fact that you're jealous how my paper stack (don't get pimp slapped)
Money, get it
Paper, I got it (I got to do it)
Heaters, I keep 'em
Bitches, I got 'em
Money, I get it
Paper, I got it
Jealous ass nigga
(don't get pimp slapped)
Hm hm hm hm

[Big Jim Bob:]
Ay Snoop what's up dog
Ay this Big Jim Bob from Campanella Park homie
Uh I know I ain't seen you in awhile boy
I ain't seen you since 'bout, uh, shitttt
See about 92, 93 or some old shit like that man but uh
This Jacob big brother homie
Uh, got much love for you boy, just heard the little cut you put out, uh, the other day
You know, uh, I got much love for you boy
And like you said man expose that big old, fake-ass nigga Simon man
That nigga ain't never been from the streets man
I seen, I met that nigga in 90 man that nigga popped up, I don't know where that nigga came from
But anyway this Jim Bob from Campanella Park homie
Uh, Mausberg, uh, big home boy and Jay big brother
So uh, you know I'll holla at you later out there on the streets man
I see you man keep your head up boy
And niggas over [?] got your back dog
Alright
One love big homie
Keep it straight

End of message