50 Cent P.I.M.P. Lyrics

sponsored links
[Chorus: x2]
I don't know what you heard about me
But a ***** can't get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can't see
That I'm a **********ing P-I-M-P

Now shorty, she in the club, she dancing for dollars
She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada
That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana
She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her cause they want to
I spit a little G man, and my game got her
A hour later, have that *** up in the Ramada
Them trick *****s in her ear saying they think about her
I got the ***** by the bar trying to get a drink up out her
She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk
She from the country, think she like me cause I'm from New York
I ain't that ***** trying to holla cause I want some head
I'm that ***** trying to holla cause I want some bread
I could care less how she perform when she in the bed
***** hit that track, catch a date, and come and pay the kid
Look baby this is simple, you can't see
You ****ing with me, you ****ing with a P-I-M-P


I'm bout my money you see, girl you can holla at me
If you ****ing with me, I'm a P-I-M-P
Not what you see on TV, no Cadillac, no greasy
Head full of hair, ***** I'm a P-I-M-P
Come get money with me, if you curious to see
How it feels to be with a P-I-M-P
Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch TV
From the backseat of my V, I'm a P-I-M-P
Girl we could pop some champagne and we could have a ball
We could toast to the good life, girl we could have it all
We could really splurge girl, and tear up the mall
If ever you needed someone, I'm the one you should call
I'll be there to pick you up, if ever you should fall
If you got problems, I can solve'em, they big or they small
That other ***** you be with ain't bout ****
I'm your friend, your father, and confidant, *****!


I told you fools before, I stay with the tools
I keep a Benz, some rims, and some jewels
I holla at a hoe til I got a ***** confused
She got on Payless, me I got on gator shoes
I'm shopping for chinchillas, in the summer they cheaper
Man this hoe you can have her, when I'm done I ain't gon keep her
Man, *****es come and go, every ***** pimpin know
You saying it's secret, but you ain't gotta keep it on the low
***** choose with me, I'll have you stripping in the street
Put my other hoes down, you get your *** beat
Now Nik my bottom *****, she always come up with my bread
The last ***** she was with put stitches in her head
Get your hoe out of pocket, I'll put a charge on a *****
Cause I need 4 TVs and AMGs for the six
Hoe make a pimp rich, I ain't paying *****
Catch a date, suck a ****, ****, trick!


Yeah, in Hollywoood they say there's no business like show business
In the hood they say, there's no business like hoe business ya know
They say I talk a lil' fast, but if you listen a lil faster
I ain't got to slow down for you to catch up, *****!

Written by: Curtis James Jackson, Brandon Anthony Parrott, Denaun M. Porter
Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Artists A to Z: