Son of a Pimp - Mistah F.A.B., CMT

I was born in eighty two January twenty third

I was my mamma’s only child

And to my daddy I was third

In a itty bitty city by the water

The town Oakland California

Pimps outside popping collars

Spitting game better watch your daughter

On San Pablo I seen it all

Caddies, Volks white wall

Young black girls, white bras

I used to tell a pimp I wanna be like y’all

They said don’t be like me be better than me

A straight scene from the Macs

But meet coasts and go rolls

How could you not wanna live like that

Six by nines in the trunk

Coming through with tremendous bump

Candy painted cars with all flavours

And they didn’t wear sneakers they wore gators

Son of a pimp

(P.i.m.p)

Son of a P.i.m.p

Son of a pimp

(P.i.m.p)

Son of a P.i.m.p

I was raised by pimps and players

Macs and gangsters

Told me forever stay after bread and be about your paper

My whole household was full of game

My daddy and my mamma

My daddy had hoes, in the house

And there never once was drama

I got it honest I cannot lie

That’s why these chicks don’t impress me

OPM and is what my daddy used when he was stressing

But he stay fly suited in boots until the day he passed

Gucci hats, Armani slacks damn that man had swag

Son of a pimp

(P.i.m.p)

Son of a P.i.m.p

Son of a pimp

(P.i.m.p)

Son of a P.i.m.p

In Oakland California there’s only three ways to live

Play ball, duck the law or pimp on a bitch

I did all three coming up tryna live like my daddy

I had a Benz, on rims and Volks on a caddie

When I said Son of a Pimp some thought I was lying

But when they seen that first album cover

Man it was no denying it

Now look at this album cover yep, that’s my mama

That’s madam Des, pimping ass with bands fucking up commas

Son of a pimp

(P.i.m.p)

Son of a P.i.m.p

Son of a pimp

(P.i.m.p)

Son of a P.i.m.p