Neighborhood Hoe Pt. 2 lyrics

[Hook: DJ Paul]
b*tches try to run game but Triple Six ain't goin G
And that's what you be f*ckin' wit my dawg

[Verse 1: Lord Infamous]
All these nasty, trampy, sl*tty, sleezy, triflin', dirty wenches
Some of you heifers should oughta get yo f*ckin head beat in with some tree branches
And some ambulances getting sent to the trauma center
Some hoes they just open they legs up and don't give a f*ck who the hell wish to enter
b*tches cannot understand why the Triple Six dog 'em and do 'em low down
Scandalous funky c*ck-skeezers they snatch off they clothes and they pass it around
Saditty materialistic stank b*tches, they keepin' they nose in the air
Cracker-crumb ass b*tch don't think you too good for a player
Hoe yo ass ain't worth them cheap drawers tied around yo ass
b*tch you best pay attention you might not graduate class
Let's have a discussion about all these b*tches, they love to be spreading these rumors
And who is all lyin' and sayin' they down with the click, stupid b*tch don't get hit with this Ruger
Hoe you better play like Heinz and catch up witchyo f*cking kind
Cuz Scarecrow is the n*gga with a stomp-a-broad type mind
Pimps do it cuz they use to it, wimps ain't cuz they can't
A pimp gon' do what he wanna and a hoe gon' stand his corner
b*tch

[Verse 2: DJ Paul]
Steppin' up out the house, fresh black Jordans on my feet
Afro stayin' picked out, with cologne I'm kinda neat
Straight from Dillard’s, hoes love it so I guess I’ll hit one up
789-92 what’s the rest? I’m still f*cked up
Takin' that shower, wearin' off some but I got some more fire than I thought
Smokin' by my lonesome, chiefin' to the maximum, a head bounce I have caught
Finally I gets to stuck on the hoe last two digits
Now I’m hookin' up with a hoe thats shorter than a midget
But I don’t care, cause my job is just to G to the double E
To the T, to the E-R street, freak and get my di*k sucked
Cause that’s all really on my mind
I can't enjoy f*ckin' cause the hoe ain't even kinda fine
I took care my business now I'm laid back at the crib
Still smokin' dope, warmin' up a plate of spaghetti and ribs
Straight the rest of the night, for three days just hit the pass dope
Aw sh*t, I'm burnt, kill that b*tch, f*ck a neighborhood hoe