I`m rollin` in a Nine-Oh van. California, that`s my plan
Got memories Mix-A-Lot left in limbo, first stop Sacremento
Here we go, hit a club called Bentleys
Want a skirt to git wit` me, hit me
There`s a girl with a back like a Cadillac
I walked up and got pushed back
Her boyfriend tell her I`m a play-a
Dropped salt on a dope rhyme say-a
My reputation offends this man
Next day hit Williamland Park
Creepin` like a shark
Spot a bad freak and I swoop like a hawk
What up?, Howya like to roll wit` a champ?
Please! All ya`ll rappers is tramps
My reputation is stoppin` my mission
Every freak in Sac is dissin`
Back on the four lane freeway
Next stop, the two-one-three, L.A.
The two-one-three is rough
But the Mixalot game is tough
Spot a young girl and I start that gamin`
Baby girl asks what set am I claimin`
Just cuz I rap, I gotta be in gang?
It ain`t a black thang, it`s a rap thang
Censorship is sweepin` the nation
Messin` up a rap stars reputation
A rappers reputation, that`s what I got
So I`m finished with the two-one-three
I knock, baby, but it`s time to leave
Two days on the hard rock, boys is cruisin`
Interstate Ten, straight to Houston
They tell me `bout the girls in the fifth ward
You know the boys must score
So we hit a fly club called Guchies
Lookin` for the skirts with the largest booties
Girlies in the club wasn`t takin` no shorts
Showin` no remorse
For a brother like Mix, lookin` for the smooth
Didn`t need a Houston skirt to get with me
But the nights still young
And the hunk ain`t done
So we stepped to the van
Attitude`s out of it
The next club, The Main Event
We never think about a dress code
Just step up in the club and let the game roll
But as soon as my boy Maharaji pulls up
Some punk starts runnin` up
He said you don`t wanna be with a rap star
They play you for your money and your car
Well my boy got crushed but the girl stepped off
With a rap stars rep, the girls are lost
Hey yo, what`s up, this is Mix I had to make a run
right quick, but leave your name and number `n I`ll
getcha right back, peace.
So the posse left Houston Texas
All the girls keep callin` us sexist
Houston media is givin` us rappers no pity
So we all hit Kansas City
In K.C. we go The Gates and Suns
Gotta get grub `fore we run
Met a little freak named Stacy
I said I`m not just here for the Barbecue baby
She gave me that look, like Pebbles
I`m acked with bass not treble
So I say, Oogley-goo oogley-doo-goo-doo
What`d you say? I ain`t tellin` you
You see the Mix game is laced with riddles
It ain`t moaney, it`s Mix in the middle
In walked my ex named Wendy
She got a fresh Dooney Bag
`Cause she`s tired of Fendi
Oooh, could a brother be busted
Because Wendy trusted, Me?
An` ah told a lit`l lie `n
Said I was a loyal guy
Wendy got mad and she wants to dis me
In Kansas City
Wendy starts to groovin`
Hands on her hips and her hair starts movin`
She said the Mix-A-Lot game is phony
Just `cause I said I`m runnin` girls like ponies
But talkin` that stuff is my occupation
That`s how I got this reputation
A rappers reputation, got a rappers reputation
Bring it on down. A rappers reputation, bring it back
A rappers reputation, that`s what I got. A rappers
reputation, peace.
