Lyrics:
her man
You need a keys to a Beamer
Like I'm Beenie Man
You see me man, I'm a handsome boy
I make a brawl on my car lot dance it more
I be glances
and leave her man
You need a keys to a Beamer
Like I'm Beenie Man
You see me man, I'm a handsome boy
I make a brawl on my car lot dance it more
I be glances
hammer on a convoy
Mix-A-Lot on the stage I'ma (ROUGH BOY)
Yes so rough boy, creepin up the backside
Mix-A-Lot sign 'em up for the (BIG FIGHT)
(*solo
step up in this motherfucker chest up
Only hot boy left up in this mother
Other niggas slept up but I kept up
Niggas stepped down but I stepped up
In
get that hot
Then start to Sir Mix-A-Lot
[E-40] White girl (x4)
(?White girl" continues to repeat x12 in background)
I got that, whiiiiiiiiiite girl
I
Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?
Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full
One for the master
And one for the dame
And one for the little boy who
Yeah Yeah Cassidy and I ain't
In no mutha fucking gang but I'm a mutha
Fucking gangster real rap
I'mma G boy get smoke by P boy
Coke by the key boy
on the spot Bitch
You already know that a nigga like me
Boy you know that we hot bitch
I get a lot
I get a lot
I get a lot
I get a lot
You know me I don't even
Malibu on my yacht (twenty-five hoes)
I got twenty-five M's in the bank, no cap, no lie (yes sir) (twenty-five)
Run up an M, ain't trickin' (run it up)
the victory
Wait! One moment Wait! You, boy! Get on that chair!
Me, Signor? Not a tooth, sir, I beg of you!
I ain't got a twinge, not the slightest
the Mix-a-Lot
Bitches put 'em on the glass while
I'm puttin' stickers on they ass
I rule everything around me like cash
On the rocks of reality, dreams get
Tossing periods in front of false reps?
It's not the 187 when the 360 slept
You swallow the cake from the plate of elevate
Or you might get sparked by
they need to rank the boi by Scovilles
Oh my gosh
Whew that's hot
Gas me up Yung Chernobyl
My wallet looking too thick had to put it in a girdle
Mix it
pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not
Mubz got beats
Yo
Grew up on a dumb estate
Buzzworl' that's a jumpy place
Everybody getting white boy wasted
Right now I can't feel my face
on this soda
Plug came over said boy
About to load ya
Sold so much green
I got sued by Crayola
12 raid the spot
Burn that Shìt in the sofa
I gas that hoe
she giving me top
Got that bitch wet so i needed a mop
45 clip mix that bitch with a glock
Double my cup when I'm sipping the wock
Call me lil droplet
on the low money
Niggas hate but all the hoes wanna fuck me
I got money i got mo' money
Blow it by the O money
Mix tapes, over a hundred thousand sold money
Khaled...we're looking at another win!
You got me feeling like a birthday boy
Man I'm feeling like a birthday boy
Can I get some candles and some cake at my
me do the old man dance boy
I smoke plenty grass boy
I'm touching on the ass boy
Go ahead and Sir Mix-A-Lot put it on the glass boy
I'm from
Diamonds all on my shirt (Uh, yeah)
Make a broke boy lurk (Uh, yeah)
Maybach with the curtains (Uh, yeah)
You creep around it get hurt (Uh, yep)
She
diamonds wet like
Yes, sir
We take any threat like
Yes, sir
Came up on the check like
Yes, sir
She slangin' that neck like
Yes, sir
Do whatever I need
If she
on that South Lee, with Big Mix and my boy Lil' Heat
Where's the drank I'm runnin' low, Cabbage Head told me it's a drought
But not to worry dough never
Mix-A-Lot a sucker
Who you callin' sucker, lip-synching motherfucker
Move the set boy how's this fiasco
I'm in your gutter and I'm singin' like Tabasco,
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