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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
South Circle
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
South Circle
Songwriter
Lyrics
They say that pimpin's a necessity, damn, it's a trip how God been blessin me*
Cause if you know like I know, then y'all know it's some jealousy
Floatin through the hood, ill communication on a brother
Other niggas pull triggers cause a nigga's gettin richer
So I sit back and smoke a spliff
Ahhh... do you know where you are?
On a planet where the pimps fill the atmosphere
Thinkin to yoself, "Damn, should I be here?"
But it don't matter to the player hater
Cause he'll sweat you now or he'll sweat you later
Until you reach the peak of all peaks, then you let him speak
And still he sweats the technique
See, it's no doubt that Suave's gon' come up
No doubt that niggas gon' run up
No doubt that did he die, yeah, he got done up
Who's my witness? (It's all about a baller)
Players, get this (cause niggas livin larger)
And if you struggle, then you hustle, if you hustle, then you struggle
Bustafied niggas, seems they can never move a muscle
Except for stickin they hands out to see what a nigga can pass out
It's yo attitude that's keepin you assed out
It's yo attitude
That's what describes you
Be what you wanna be
Yeah
Do what you gotta do
Yeah
I'm givin out buster cards, here fool, take one
Make some copies for yo click and stay off my dick
It's a trip, a bitch in hustler's clothing
The hoe wasn't showin, so I had no way of knowin
While smilin in my face he stabbed me in my back
I react like a mack cause I'm bigger than all that
In fact, fuck you, fraud-ass nigga
See this player figure? Wanna take a picture?
No? What about your bitch, though?
And if she take it with me, partner, she wasn't yours from the get-go
It's so funny, honey got him sprung
But if she come this way, she gettin bad news and bubble gum
Now 1, 2, this what we gon' do
Crack a brew, light a blunt and let me kick what's true
You know you go with the flow, try to keep your cool
But you always got to worry 'bout somebody actin a fool
So I use my head, don't let it get me fed
I drink a fifth of 'yac and take yo gal to the bed
Instead of straight trippin and actin real rude
I just charge it to the game and blame yo player-hatin attitude
It's yo attitude
That's what describes you
Be what you wanna be
Yeah
Do what you gotta do
Yeah
I'm just a late night creeper, high-powered like I'm Eisenhower
At the drop of a dime I'll get mine, wine and dine on the heighest tower
Now who's that man in the black suit, will he back you
If he have to, or slap you, then jack you
Nobody knows as the story goes
Cause in my world it's just one of me and a bunch of hoes
I kicks that pimp shit to my real niggas
Then I sit back and let my niggas kick that pimp shit to they real nigga
Slick rhymer, mircrophone Prime Time like Deion
Peons get popped cause when it's on, it don't stop
We dropped the bomb from way down south
Suave House, Suave House, ain't no need to shout
So when it's told, take heed as I proceed to make cheese
Now muliply my sales by the gals that I cheat
Hm, I'm a Hollywood nigga - not I
I'm real till I die, and that's the reason why
It's yo attitude
That's what describes you
Be what you wanna be
Yeah
Do what you gotta do
Yeah
Writer(s): Tristan Jones, Rex Robertson, Mike Walls
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