Hey what it is pimpin
Slim Thug and T.I.P. doing it B.I.G with B.I.G 
Ya understand what Im saying 
P.S.C. pimpin!
Yall already know what it is man, its a bad boy thing man
Grand hustle collaboration, Yall already know man
Boss Hog whats happening 
A-Town pimpin!
Slim Thugga!
I roll strapped Glock 40 in my lap
I rap but still think like Im grinding in the trap
Trying to adapt to the change from the streets to the game
Cant be selling CDs and still selling dem thangs
Cause snitches drop names and bring alot of problems
And putting somthing in they head the only way you gonna solve em
Jackas stay plotting watching your every move
And the minute you snooze will be the minute you lose, dude
Thats the rules so I cruise with the tools
To fix the damn fools that think Im slipping with my jewels
Breakin old habits so hard to do
Thats why you see me on the same block with the same crew
And everybody sitting fat living good
And Im the only nigga that be rapping in my hood
I was raised by the hustlas, and ganged by the Gs
And taught by the bosses how to stack that cheese
You got rich and G shit is still a part of you
Cause breakin old habits so hard to do
You still watch for the haters and the robbing crew
Cause breakin old habits so hard to do
When on shot that nigga like I started to
Cause breakin old habits so hard to do
Fresh out the dealership crackin open cigars in the coupe
Man cause breakin old habits so hard to do
Damn it feel good to see people up on it
Flipped two keys in two weeks and didnt flaunt it
My brain is haunted, with mean dreams
GSs with BBs on it, supreme schemes, to get Richer
Than Richie, quickly, niggas wanna hit me
If they get me, dress my body in linen by Armani, check it
My lyrical carjack, make your brains splat
High caliber gats is all I fuck with, now peep the rough shit
In my circumfrence, mad bitches, with mad lucci
Bulletproof vestes under they coochie
Spittin my uzi, dont lose me, my trigga niggas represent
Drivin dirty in J-30s gettin bent
And to my hit hoes, my murder mommies
I be smokin trees in Belize when they find me
While you still killin niggas with punany, like Connie
And Cyrus up in Cypress fuck you raw, you on the floor with the virus
While I just, slang coke, smoke pounds to choke
Got lawyers watchin lawyers so I wont go broke, now check it
Them country niggas call me Frank White
Im squirtin off in my loft of course I know my shits tight
Sunrise open my eyes no surprise
Got my shorty flying in with keys taped to her thighs
With all the utensils, who hang my china thing
She half black half oriental eighty-six she got me rentals
I used to drive a Chevy Monte Carlo, bricks of blow all in it
I was taught to sell the shit, you put your nose all in it
Let my bitch drive the Benz but the Rolls off limits
How you call yourself pimpin, with hoes all in your buisness
What it is, the music business or the streets make a decision
I do this in my sleep, and you way out your division pimp
This game we play for keeps, and the rules remain hidden
This aint a place for lames and that snitching shit is forbidden
After sitting in the kitchen and whipping with hopes of getting back
All that off a brick to go blow it, so it even 50 stacks
And now Im sitting back, thinking about a time
When a nigga get a 100 gs, think he went down
But now look for loyalty in the game, it aint there
And things aint the same they changed it aint fair
Real niggas dead, doing their time and aint here
You commit the same crime and come home the same year