Tryna Run Game

[Hook: DJ Paul]
Bitches try to run game but Triple Six ain't goin G
And that's what you be fuckin' wit my dawg

[Verse 1: Lord Infamous]
All these nasty, trampy, slutty, sleezy, triflin', dirty wenches
Some of you heifers should oughta get yo fuckin head beat in with some tree branches
And some ambulances getting sent to the trauma center
Some hoes they just open they legs up and don't give a fuck who the hell wish to enter
Bitches cannot understand why the Triple Six dog 'em and do 'em low down
Scandalous funky cock-skeezers they snatch off they clothes and they pass it around
Saditty materialistic stank bitches, they keepin' they nose in the air
Cracker-crumb ass bitch don't think you too good for a player
Hoe yo ass ain't worth them cheap drawers tied around yo ass
Bitch you best pay attention you might not graduate class
Let's have a discussion about all these bitches, they love to be spreading these rumors
And who is all lyin' and sayin' they down with the click, stupid bitch don't get hit with this Ruger
Hoe you better play like Heinz and catch up witchyo fucking kind
Cuz Scarecrow is the nigga with a stomp-a-broad type mind
Pimps do it cuz they use to it, wimps ain't cuz they can't
A pimp gon' do what he wanna and a hoe gon' stand his corner
Bitch

[Verse 2: DJ Paul]
Steppin' up out the house, fresh black Jordans on my feet
Afro stayin' picked out, with cologne I'm kinda neat
Straight from Dillard’s, hoes love it so I guess I’ll hit one up
789-92 what’s the rest? I’m still fucked up
Takin' that shower, wearin' off some but I got some more fire than I thought
Smokin' by my lonesome, chiefin' to the maximum, a head bounce I have caught
Finally I gets to stuck on the hoe last two digits
Now I’m hookin' up with a hoe thats shorter than a midget
But I don’t care, cause my job is just to G to the double E
To the T, to the E-R street, freak and get my dick sucked
Cause that’s all really on my mind
I can't enjoy fuckin' cause the hoe ain't even kinda fine
I took care my business now I'm laid back at the crib
Still smokin' dope, warmin' up a plate of spaghetti and ribs
Straight the rest of the night, for three days just hit the pass dope
Aw shit, I'm burnt, kill that bitch, fuck a neighborhood hoe