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Текст песни Sir Mix-a-Lot - You Can`t Slip

Sir Mix-a-Lot - You Can`t Slip слова песни




Verse 1: Sir Mix-a-LotYou can`t slip, `cause the pimpin` game is not about the sexYou gots to be a businessman to keep them thangs in checkI used to run some call girls and pimp `em just for funBut you should see how the gangsters can make us pimps r-r-run!Back in `82 I used to roll a gold CaddyFemales were my business, you could call me the Mack DaddyBut pimpin` came so easy to me, I didn`t have to hit `emRoll `em up to Canada so Johnny`s could wit `emShow them fake ID`s so we could step across the borderWe hit the nearest hotel, and like that, I`m takin` ordersTwo thousand dollars and she`ll make you lose your moralsWe must increase the profit if the trick wants to get oralRappers like to claim `bout how they know the pimpin` gameHow can you run the ladies when you`re only 17?I speak from experience when I say "Turn around!"`Cause I was rollin` heavy `till one female took me downShe was only 17 but she was lookin` 215`9", street-tough and packin` gunsBut I was slippin` `cause the pimpin` game was softBaby took a trick out to the suite so he could toss911 is flashin` crazy on my pagerI pushed the trunk button and I load the 12 gaugeBack to the `tel `cause I`m down to get my mailSmoke a trick quick if he`s beatin` on my femaleKickin` down the door and ain`t nobody in the suiteI never let my agents take them tricks out on the streetIf I wasn`t slippin` then the psycho couldn`t kill herBody found face down, floatin` in the green riverYou can`t slip! Not in this pimpin` game, chief!No no, you can`t slip! You can`t slip. Yo E-Dog, tell them what`s up with that slangin` and bangin`, chief!Verse 2: E-Dog (Mix-a-Lot)You can`t slip when you`re rollin` through the hood without your strap (Hellno!)Especially when your rims are dipped in gold and lookin` phat (Yeah!)`Cause it`s the 1990`s and you got to be preparedOr a nigga like the E`ll roll `em up and keep `em scared (Huhh??)High sightin` nigga rollin danks through my set (Don`t do it!)Drops 6-4, gives my homies no respect (None!)But when we starts the loc`in` up, the fool will start the chokin` upAnd bones are gettin` broken up, a jack move! (Give it up!)A straight jack on a fella with a fat sack Comin` out missin` when you`re slippin` on the fast track (Yeah!)Came through servin` but you went out gettin` served (Peace!)Got you for your Daytons then we beat you to the curb (Huh!)Now it`s time to slang them thangs and come up on a grip (Yeah!)Trade him for some ounces so that I can clock my chips (Get paid!)Say it`s `bout the dividends and not about the fame (Yep!)But `till I let you know, the E-D-O-G is my name (Word.)So now I`m straight addicted to the jackin` and the slangin` Cross court saggin` and my flag shows I`m bangin`But if you think I`m gonna stop this life, well you`re wrong! I don`t care about your muscles `cause my 9 is pluggin` domes (Ha ha!)So here we go again, another jack in effect (Yeah!)A candy-painted Blazer chased the driver, make him wreck (Get him!)And if he tries to run then I just smoke him on the spotBut little do I know, there`s a lesson to be taughtThe brother pulled an AK and now I`m yellin` "Mayday!"*gunshots* ("OH SHIT, HE GOT E-DOG!") On the concrete I lay!He walks up slowly, then he looks me in my eyeBarrel to my temple, so I know I`m gonna die!(Lil` cake-ass gang nigga, you can`t jack for these D`s! See ya!)*gun cocking, shot* (C`mon, let`s go, nigga!) *sirens*(Shouldn`t have been a sucka, nigga!) *door closing*(Punk motherfucker!! Yeah!) *car skids off*You can`t slip.You can`t slip. Oh, you better pull them pants up, champ. Huh huh.You can`t slip. Gots to be a gangsta, huh?Well, you can`t slip!*creepy organ music*Yeah, a lot of young brothers is constantly tellin` me how they growin`.Well, I`m just tryin` to tell you where you`re goin`. You can`t slip. Peace.

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