Текст песни All About It (Pimp C) с переводом

Now who’s sleeping on the midwest, better get your head checked

Niggas gonnna feel this, even all the rednecks

Bounce to the beat when they hear this shit

I’ve been underground damn near 20 years in the mix

I moved down south cuz old man was wild

My lil homie rapping on, came to show you how

To take my skills and keep paying the bills

Fuck what you’re saying cuz I’m staying real

The young homies keep me on my toes, still got the old flow

Book me in your town and there’ll never be a no-show

Kick it down south where they keeping it crunk

Cuz the niggas down south got they own funk!

You heard about the West Coast, heard about the East Coast

Heard about Miami-base, but what about

Or Kalamazoo, they got MC’s too!

If you come around my crew, you gonna have to say a few

Or you can just get your bitch-ass out

You come to me you can play, sing, rap, no doubt

You got to go, what the fuck is this?

Hip-Hop Culture or the music business?

Bitch, I’m so all about it

I just can’t live without it

Bitch, I’m so all about it

I just can’t live without it

Nigga I’m so all about it

I just can’t live without it

Bitch, I’m so all about it

I just can’t live without it

Nigga I’m so…

(Pimp C):

Bitch it’s all about the indo weed and stacking money

In this land of milk and honey, ain’t a damn thing funny

Let’s put this shit together, Too $hort and Pimp-C

Put niggas on the map from Oakland to P.A.T

(Too $hort):

Chicago and Detroit, Houston, Dallas

Support Short records and you can have this

Funk 'till eternity, folks gotta learn to be together

Cuz we all on the same journey

So as I roll, I’ma look out for you

If I see you do it wrong I take my time and show you

How to get it right, make money every night

Gotta use your brain if you wanna win the fight

East coast, West coast, who got the best flow?

Maybe at your next show, niggas oughta test your

Crowd skills, and check your record sales

Then we’ll find out how you fake as hell

I said it ain’t where you from it’s how you do it where you’re at

Real players from your town all knew that you was whack

Fake nigga in Cali', fake nigga in New York

Small time, you never be bigger than $hort

Now why you trying to front so hard?

You from a gangster town but you is a punk ass mark

Respect don’t come cuz of where you from

Keep it real in your heart from square one

And all you highly influenced followers, on the wrong path

Spitting game to make the motherfucking song last

It’s a shame you can’t make no cash

Everytime we roll out we gotta wait on your ass

You’re just slow, can’t be down with nation wide

Cuz we seriously, trying to get the paper right

Talking bout contracts, cash flow, credit cards, mean cars

Signin lot of that for the next 16 bars

Make a hit, get paid, get laid, what you want

Tellin motherfuckers where you getting all that money from

$hort records now you trying to flip 18's

Got what it takes make a hit, make G’s!

Sweet Jones, the pimp of the year

Riding drop elderado with two carrots in my ear

My baby momma brother put me down with the D

I bought my babe a 'lac and changed my name to Pimp-C

I put the pimping down to the hoes

Now $hort got me rocking on the microphone

And all the trill niggas riding trues and vogues

And all the bitch niggas trying to buy these hoes

Got a bitch try to chip me on my cellular phone

Smelling like 64-dollar cologne

Nigga got mad cuz his bitch chose me

But you just showed you ain’t no real P.I.M.P

Like Kool Mack A Ace and Sir Captain

You ain’t no goldy motherfucker you was acting

And all that punk shit we could do without it

I’m still down with Master P so bitch I’m 'bout it!

(Pimp C):

I dip from city to city, squeezing ass and titties

The head was good, but the pussy was shitty

She just wanna kick it with a rap star

The bitch got freaky, tried to fuck my car!

ATL, the city of bless

Where hoes like to take big dick in they belly

Got two freaks from Decateur wanna lick our sacks

I tried hit you $hort, man where the fuck was you at?

(Too $hort):

Out in Nashville, Tenessee

Bitches in with me for sure

Sipping on the Remy X ho!

With the hoes, last night I did that

Every blue moon I got to pull out my big hat

Do some more shit other niggas can’t do

Like hooking up this funky ass nation wide crew

We come from everywhere, working under one roof

Come through, front, somebody might stump you

With a rhyme or a boot

What you finna do?

Getting blood all over my nigga’s tennish shoe

You better take my advice and get lost fast

Before them boys from Texas, get off in your ass

And it won’t be pretty, if my uncle Frank Middy

Come lookin for you, shooting at you, it gets shitty!

But in your mind you rank higher than me

Put your money in the bank then come wire it to me

Cuz I’ll flip it, while you trying to buy a new car

Find me in the studio signing new stars

Take a hundred thousand dollars make a quick million

Start from the floor and go straight to the ceiling

You hiding from reality, nigga you is a bitch

Niggas like me get used to getting rich

Signing autographs, taking pictures of my fans

Hit the town and take your bitch to my place

She get a bigger and better deal, fucking with me

I heard $hort dog ran up in your freak!

She dissapeared, heard she went to Cali!

Jumped on the plane, and flew the bitch to Maui

Or maybe Atlanta, I got your bitch posted

Popping champagne bottles 'bout to get roasted

Chilling at the house, me and four hoes

Jumped in the jacuzzi ain’t wearing no clothes

(Pimp-C spitting game during the last chorus)

Say $hort can I fuck?

Smoke something bitch

Bitch!

Hol' up