She Couldn't Make It On Her Own (feat. OMG & Doughboy)

She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own California Air, chain all blue, like it's runnin' out of air I keep a bad bitch wit' a fat derriere And you know that hoe fresher than a new pair Retro elevens on the pedal, I'm taking this to the next level Competition best invest up in shovel And if you niggas still wanna make a deal with the devil I can help you meet him, introduce you to my barrel (to my barrel) All you artists walkin' 'round wit'cha wack raps (wack raps) And getting fucked by the game, Kat Stacks (Kat Stacks) And any nigga thinkin' he can make it happen I'll be outside of Staples with the bitches and the Phantom Mothafucka! She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own Pull up on them bitches, steppin' out on thirty inches In my L.A. Dodger fitted with some Louie V stitching Niggas wanna catch me slippin', yeah they prayin' and they wishin' Cause a nigga clockin' dough, and I'm fuckin' all they bitches (Yo you fuckin' all they bitches?) Yeah I'm fuckin' all they bitches And it's money over bitches and I'm preachin' my religion Cause this game that I'm living 'bout as cold as my wrist is If you know my pops then you know I'm 'bout the business Smoke big trees, Christmas Chain super sick, syphilis My flow retarded nigga, gifted This game's a bitch, watch me pimp it She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own If you don't kick it wit' me, who you gon' kick it with? Ice Cube is the shit, who you been speakin' with? They been lying to you if they told you different I got a different cool type of temperament West Coast style baby on some California shit They mighta told you that, I was hard on a bitch You know how it go, some bitches think they slick Look at me and think they 'bout to get rich Uh-oh, danger You are, a stranger Who am I, I am The Lone Ranger Tonto tell 'em, I'll run yo' fucking ass through the ringer It goes She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own She had to get a pimp, she couldn't make it on her own What about me What about me What about me