Pimp C:
(Uh, Uh) One time for yo` muthafuckin`...(whuut)
Back, bitch (uh)...Kool Ace (whuut), UGK...(huh)
Chorus (Pimp C):
Pimpin` ain`t no illusion,
And pimpin` ain`t never died.
Mo` pimps was on that heroin
And yo` pimp tripped out on that fry.
The dikes done came through
And straight threw off all the game;
Got all these hoes thinkin`
They could manage they own change.
Kool Ace:
But it ain`t no illusion,
I know...you all have witnessed
He rollin` in my Caady mo`
Wit` fly bitches,
Makin` ole deals: Now, ho (huh, huh)
Ain`t Bob Barker
But I`m caught up in this game
Mo` like...Peter Parker.
P-I-M-P, take the P`s that I am.
I want you payin` hoes in my army
Like...uh...Uncle Sam,
And we gon` jam...
I`m talkin` `bout the world greatest show
I know my shit is extreme
But I`m all about them does.
When I`m steppin` on the scene
Be there four deep...hella clan
My reality is your favorite dream
(Stop that shit, daddy...)
Best believe Kool Ace gon` keep it real.
Pimp C & Bun B to testify for the ear
Excuse me, y`all, but this about Southern shit.
Now, tell me can you...uh...feel this, bitch?
We givin` `em brain contusions...
Pimp C, what`s the conclusion?
Pimp C:
Pimpin` ain`t no illusion...
Chorus: (x2)
Pimp C:
Pimpin` ain`t dead...nigga, it just began
(How the fuck you know Sweet Jones?)
My hoes still out there sellin` ass.
Yo` bitch is out of pocket,
`Cause yo` pimpin` was scary;
Real hoes gon` front on a simp
But she gon` do it for daddy.
Fuck niggas watch them mack and pimp on my floozie;
But, boy, my bitches know the difference
Between real pimpin` and movies
It`s the difference between real leather
And that shit at yo` house.
I don`t know what y`all doin` up there,
But we really pimpin` in the South.
Every since I was 17,
I been stackin` my green:
Went for servin` rocks to fiends,
And rockin` club full a teens.
Went from bumpin` Screw in Houston,
Sippin` promythazine,
To ridin` in a 8 600 with sheath,
To smokin` on sticky green.
I`m still Pimp C, bitch
I`m claimin` P.A., they hate us;
But, me and Kool Ace rollin` a Lexus
Sittin` on all gold Daytons.
Bitch, take a look around
Those hoes steady choosin`.
This is the conclusion: pimpin` ain`t no illusion.
Chorus: (x2)
Bun B:
If you got any love fo` that broad you wit`
Nigga, move her `fore you lose her,
`Cause a beggar ain`t a muthafuckin` chooser.
Third leg is a bitch abuser, infamous
In cities where big pimpin` is my hoes clean.
No AIDS, herpies, cyphillis
Come catch a wif a this...
Damn, can`t you taste it?
Now yo` money`s up in smoke
Like you freebased it.
Now bitch replaced it
Wit` a sexual favor
But don`t get mad at real pimpin`, nigga
Check yo` behavior...and savor
The aroma from Promona to Tacoma;
Got my pimpin` diploma for bein` a Cadillac chromer.
Fuck a Sonoma...
I`m on a mission for Benzes
Knowin` `xactly where my ends is, ballin` relentless.
And then my friends is
Slappin` niggas with glass chins
It`s funny...sendin` tricks home
Broke and defenseless; and, ever since this
Boy been pimpin` the pen,
I promise never to ever leave home
Without my pimpin` again...that`s why...
Chorus: (x2)
Too $hort:
You know, I got to tell you players what I`m talkin` about:
My bitch got bold opened a bank account.
When I found the bitch checkbook,
I didn`t get mad
`Cause there was no doubt that I be gettin` the cash.
I broke it down to her,
She gave me the dough;
Do you remember what you was
Before I made you a ho?
You was a broke bitch,
You couldn`t even smoke shit,
Couldn`t stay fo-cused,
And, don`t forget it, bitch...
Yo` whole life changed the day you met me.
Now you think you need a bank account,
Baby, I can`t see
You managin` this money...it`s too much.
All you do is look good...
And then you fuck.
Git my money, git yo` money
It`s all the same.
The shit ain`t even funny when you talk about this game.
They call me Too $hort, baby
I`m still in it.
Ain`t no camouflage, nuttin` but this real pimpin`...beeyatch.
Chorus: (x3)
...pimpin` ain`t no illusion
