|
Sir Mix-A-Lot - Lead Yo Horse lyrics
[ CHORUS ] You can lead yo horse to water But you cannot make him drink I'm just tryin to spit some game So you might wanna stop and think (2x) [ VERSE 1: Malika ] Okay, 'Lik's gon' come anew for '9-6 Lead yo ass to the aqua, but I can't make a brother rich You gotta go for self, and then help others Mama wasn't lyin when she put you up on game, brother All up in the house gettin loud and disrespectin 'Lik steps in, regulatin and hoe-checkin All them makes wishes, ain't already tryin to sympathize Players stay paid all day, but yo ass stays broke and high Oh my, kids and stuff all over like some roller skates Still I keeps it on my pape and niggas be tryin to playa-hate But that'll get you rolled up sideways Whoever said crime pays never got 3 strikes in L.A. Makes you lonely, sayin, contributin to mines You could be hella fine, but ain't nobody spendin mines Mobbin with the Crowbar with some common sense You can stay hella bent, I be at the water stackin presidents [ CHORUS ] [ VERSE 2: Sir Mix-A-Lot ] One of these goddamn set-backs of havin your mail fat Is some of these lax-ass wanna-be macks, and you hoes in black They tracks sound booty, and they ain't doin they duty In the studio, and only if you knew me, though You'd see that I puts in work, and puts hurt On your flirts that wanna wear skirts and try to jerk But you'se in love with a fantasy, trick You wanna 'sit on yo ass, collect checks and shit' You was younger than me, so I schooled ya Gave you the tools to come up and get down like a ruler Took you to executive brunches, high-powered lunches Gave you dough in bunches So get your fried chicken and your watermelon Start the yellin, Mix-A-Lot is why you ain't sellin Old Uncle Tom nigga gettin mad But you know you never worked for the shit you had Start drinkin, bitch [ CHORUS ] Hey yo, 'Lik, fill in the blanks What's up with these would-be gold diggers chasin entertainer niggas Handin out sugar daddy contracts to big black macks in black pimp Caddies I mean excuse me for pimpin, but ah... [ VERSE 3: Malika ] Tryin to see a meal ticket like's they big goals Rollin fat hoops and rollin gizzy stashin big loads Jump your woman, but ain't handlin yo business County aid plea, check so small you can't buy bisquits Got you a family, still you all up in mines Fuckin off's the hot rule, but see, 'Lik gon' fit to be fine She ain't right, got her shorties runnin the streets with retardation Bein barely sleep, puttin on that sneaky dick in her Boys will be boys, that's how the game goes Ask Mix-A-Lot, they all hoes, and this player knows Better bumrush school and get your G.E.D. Cause welfare, homey, been cuttin back since '83 Two carts ??? and still be tryin to front Use your diaper money to load up them philly blunts Get a 9 to 5, change your whole mindframe Cause doin without ain't what's happenin, put yourself up on game Kill or hustle, somethin, gotta drink the water, girl That's from a sister, 'broke' don't exist in Malika's world [ CHORUS ] |
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Last added lyrics |
|---|
 Confessions by Usher |
 Minutes to Midnight by Linkin Park |
 Loyal to the Game by 2Pac |
 Blood Stained Love Story by Saliva |
 Ghetto Classics by Jaheim |
