Where they at? Where they at?
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Where the hos at? Where they at?
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Where the bitches at? Where they at?
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Where they at? Where they at?
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Yeah, where they at?
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Where the hos at? Where they at?
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Where the bitches at? Where they at?
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Where they at? Where they at?
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Y'all niggas always talkin' bad about a breezy.
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Talkin' 'bout that young-ass, rich-ass nigga, Too Sheezy.
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Always callin' a woman out a name,
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Callin' her a "bee-eye-itch" now that's a shame.
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What if somebody called your woman that?
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You'd be all up at the century club, boy, with your stri-nap.
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Talkin' 'bout "I'll never save a ho,"
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Then why you have that breezy drivin' your big-body benz for?
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You say you only out to get some head and then to stab,
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But I see you up at Monty's feedin' her lobster and crab.
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They say that Captain is a playa's worst enemy, so what's next?
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You just mad 'cause I got more hos than you got diamonds on your rolex.
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I realize after makin' six platinum's in a row
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The shit was easy, so I had to get some mo'.
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I never did like stiff hos.
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I f*ck like a rap, ain't no quick flows.
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I'm a California nigga, born and bred.
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Got a wild imagination when I'm on the bed.
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I love my woman, I love her girlfriend and her sister.
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Felt on her momma's booty but never kissed her.
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Been mackin' on these hos since the eighties.
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It don't take much for me to break hos.
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You must be dreamin' if my bitch chose you.
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We in another lifetime, my game is foolproof.
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It won't happen as long as she's my bitch.
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I give a f*ck if you fake pimps peep my shit,
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'Cause I'm a mack these hos like never befo',
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And every time I grab the mic I gotta better flow.
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I went from rappin' about the clothes I was wearin' at a party,
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To all the hos that let me see their naked bodies.
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It's not an overnight transition thing,
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I wasn't born pimpin' hos, wearin' pinky rings.
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Never walked around sayin', "Who am I?"
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'Cause when I seen old movies like "Superfly,"
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It was my destiny, to live a pimp legacy,
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And reach levels other niggas never see.
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In '81 I rapped friendly, but now its on.
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One day I said somethin' on the microphone
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About sixteen hoes, suckin' ten toes,
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People loved it, that's how the story goes.
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It's true, in 1982
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Me and Freddy B sold the tapes to you,
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X-rated, talkin' 'bout bitches and thugs.
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All the dope-dealers gettin' rich sellin' drugs.
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Too $hort bumpin' in the background.
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You thought I retired, bitch, I'm back now.
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Like a house party, or a side show,
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I got the Spanish, black, and white hos.
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Ask an east Oakland nigga, I bet you he know,
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"Is she mixed with Japanese or Filipino?"
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I always spit the game when I rap.
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All I want to know is where the hos at?
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