Back again...

Brick Mob

Ill Seeds

Hobo Junction

Artie Bo...

"You and your smi—"

...Smile? Smile??

A pretty smile can cover up a character dirtier than Janet Jackson's clothes when she played Penny on Good Times (Right)

A chick in the hood shines

But blinds a trick **** that has not been exposed to this mentality of mines

I finds the one I want—if she step up

I get her open like every piece of my mail when I was locked up

Face stuck stupid after I drop 'em

Then fuck every model in Q-Tip's videos with the same condom

I never met a bitch that faded me

'Cause mentally and physically, God was showing off when he created me (Be afraid of me)

But stop hating me, 'cause women are loving me, I'm sorry

That you was a virgin until your record release party (Right)

Hoes won't admit this, but that's a groupie's style (Yeah)

I call 'em Cleopatras, they the queens of denial

And these trick **** dead on 'em (Yep)

Bitches looking like Barbie doll bodies with a G.I. Joe head on 'em (Haha)

It's pathetic how quick they are to get naked

Probably infected, shit! Give me the ones with good credit

Or dead it, admittedly, I have a fetish, it could be on

I like an ass so fat she can turn a boxer shorts to thongs

Is you hot from all my songs? She diggin' me

Got women fingering themselves thinking of women fingering themselves that are thinking of me

You know what's sickening me? (Yo, dog, express yo' feelings!)

If Eric Benét can get Halle Berry, I deserve Vanessa Williams

It's how it goes

It's how it goes, yo

It's how it goes

Tell 'em how it goes, yo—

This is how it goes

Down in the town of West Oakland, keepin' hoes soaked in

This game'll never change

In Jersey, freaks touch concrete, eight inches, all cheese, baby

It'll never be, another me

Saucee squeeze up on a ho, like "Oh, shit, you gotta pay me!"

That's real talk!

And you know, what's that fat white man name? Ben Franklin?

The bald headed **** with the glasses? Feel me

I dead tricks in the game (What)

Baptised they eyes, with the reply that, "I ain't fly, trick bitch, I'm a astronaut"

With so much hot ass and cock on the concrete, you gotta wear sunblock (Ya know!)

Sending these hoes like meteors (Whoosh)

By 2004, you'll see me in a spacesuit (Woop!)

Paper chasin' with hoes, in pursuit with my boots

Touchdown on that pimp planet – floor (Gimmie some more)

Up goes the flag made out of wigs and velour (Take that back)

Panties a vision for male tricks on a mission to hold hoes down like gravity

(Hahahaha) Imagine me (Trick)

'Cause the wave from y'all, I'm light years with the the flight gear

Embedded-in credit that's limitless

For breaking a bitch, I'm in the motherfuckin' Book of Guinnesses (Breakin' records)

Under "H.O.T." – short for:

"Hold On, – Trick!"

Let me switch your grade-A to mayday

Time to show up, ho up, or blow up (Blow up!)

But you know what? (What?) I gotta keep tellin' my other half

****, they don't know us, thou shall not ho trust (Ho trust!)

I'll pass the ass on mine, playalistically divine, no Nickelodeon shit

Hoes, take off your clothes, and get into this here Freudian slip

It's how it goes

It's how it goes

Show 'em how it goes, yo—

This is how it goes

Down in the town of West Oakland, keepin' hoes soaked in

This game'll never change

In Jersey, freaks touch concrete, eight inches, all cheese, baby

It'll never be, another me

Saucee squeeze up on a ho, like "Oh, shit, you gotta pay me!"

See, I don't chase no hoes!

These hoes chase me, while I chase the dough!

Yo!

Your purse comes first, your ass comes last

And I don't know how long we gon' last

But what you do with all your money, baby?

You bring it on home to Chi

Uh! To a true P.I., the thickest layer a playalistic gangsta

Pulling your ancient funny style ass file (Yeah, but now?)

That's it, I'ma shake that trick and I'm puttin' nothing else on it

I wanna rest the chest and thighs

Recognize the weapon size when I shoot this game at your ass

Or get shot with hot shit into your lip blister, bitch

Miss a **** if you a plain ass coward

With a colorful name that hate players and not the game

(Woop! Latin lover lover) Famous in art, I'm dangerous and smart

Guaranteed victory, dating your wifey on the Change of Heart

No bitches run me, I told you from the start

So many tears shed over me, don't make a scene, make an Ark (Straight talk!)

Women turnin' their beepers, cutting they phones off

I make love to they minds, 'til they clothes just fall off!

I fuck Tamia as a side bet

I make chicks consider themselves widows whose husbands ain't even died yet (Damn!)

To best explain it—

Catch me in your living room, gettin' my hair braided by your girl, butt-naked

Look at what having the best lines done for me

Your wifey would trade six of you for one of me (And that's real)

This is how it goes

Down in the town of West Oakland, keepin' hoes soaked in

This game'll never change

In Jersey, freaks touch concrete, eight inches, all cheese, baby

It'll never be, another me

Saucee squeeze up on a ho, like "Oh, shit, you gotta pay me!"

Tell 'em how it all goes down

Tell 'em how it all goes down

Tell 'em how it all goes down

Tell 'em how it all goes down

Tell 'em how it—all goes down—