Chorus: Johnny P      Do you wanna riiide?   In the backseat, of a Caddy   Chop it up, with Do or Die   Do you wanna riiide?   In the backseat, of a Caddy   Chop it up, with Do or Die      Verse One: Belo      Seven double oh P.M.   Fly low to them hoes in the B-M   Sippin Seagram, chewin on a weed stem   Touchin on my fo' fin   Move it to the back so I can see who beepin this Po Pimp   Spring to the phone with a slow limp   In a trip that shitted with 3-1-2-7-6-2-10   Three line connection   As the rest of them wanted affection   Just bring the weed, we got the drinks you need   And plus we strapped with two protections   I put the phone in the hook, then I pause for a minute   Cause I forgot where I met the hoe   And the feeling I've forgotten if the hoes wanna snap   I straight up check the hoe, really doe   To the crib      Chorus      Verse Two: AK-47, Belo      Seven deuce five, the ride the point to spot the live hoes   Three miles per hour   Like we runnin up on some ri-vals   Never to deny though, these bitches look fly 'Lo   Introduce myself   A to the motherfuckin K finna recognize   Then I loose myself juice myself   As you take one pull, uhh, pass it to the left and umm   Self-centered niggaz'll take two pulls   cuz they thinkin about samplin umm   P-I, M-P, ology, but logically   We learnin these hoes biology, and obviously, well...      Mmm, ain't this some shit, pull up in the C-A   D-I, Double-L, with ah A-C, A-C hoes   They peep those, P-I, M-P, and they think that automatically   Cause he's a pimp, he gotta be, full of that   M-O, N-E, but why?   Cause nigga be sportin nice cars and fancy clothes   Fresh jewels Girbaud flexin one five oh (chop chop)   Chop up that paper hoe, chop up that paper hoe   Watch where your lips go, caress my tip slow   To the tempo, instrumental   Real simple when you fuckin with a pimp doe   Get involved in the backseat   Let's have me in the cab betcha mess with ya young ass   Smokin on that finest grass   Never miss what you never had, at last   P-I, M-P, ology, but logically   We learnin these hoes biology, and obviously, well...      Chorus      Verse Three: Tung Twista      Well a motherfucker might be broke and shit   and then collecting no dough from tips   But I be spittin mo' game than a mouthful of poker chips   to get them hoes with the Oprah lips and the provokin hips   and never gotta tell her many lies   I been lookin in the city skies, get up in the kitty's thighs   cause I'm blessed with a look of innocence, good sex   peanut butter complex and some pretty eyes   Pity cries on my strategy side, yo when outta me gotta be   right, that'd be the flatter me right   But if the head the bonk c'mon suck a nigga dick   Members of my click, wanna see what that'd be like   I know you wanna try it out, to the rhythm of a high hat   Don't be bogus and deny that   I done got a hold of dem my fellas on the train   while she lie back, now motherfucker can you buy that?   Where your ride at?   On the passenger side of your hoe   tryin ta come up on another G   The broad all up under me tryin ta smother me   Lookin love-ly while I roll another bead, suddenly   She learned that I don't deal with emotions   But when we in the room she rubbin me with lotion   Comin like an ocean coastin have a cig thinking   me and Do or Die dig drinkin love potion   The word that was never said   Twisted be givin women dick in the bed, until they sick in the head   And if I ever leave whoever dead   They ain't trickin the Feds or spittin game but it's chicken and bread   Kickin them legs in the air like a playa do   Then belittle in a day or two   After words I'ma slay a crew   Now that's some pimp type shit that B-Low and AK'll do   Wearing gray and blue   If a hoe wanna holler then you a playa if you hit them ends   and get the dividends   But you a pimp if you can get the same hoe to wanna freak your friends   Cause I studied P-I, M-P, ology, but logically   Be learnin these hoes biology, obviously, well...      Chorus