text: 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