Lyrics
Pimpology, the teachings of a pimp
Get dosed and you’ll never beat your weenie again
Stack cheesyology, Mac Dreezyology
Then there’s thizzyology for the one’s that swallow E
That’s T-H-I double Z
I’m a pimp fuck love boy, I’d rather see
A purse full of dough, before I pull a ho
Get this game in her brain than I hit the sto' or stroll
Oh, when I hit the blade
I check a chick for some chips boy, I’m tryin' get paid
Pay Flambé, crap tables and milly made
I’m a king of diamonds boy, you’re just a ten of spades
Everything is top shelf, boy I spoil myself
Dough from the ho stroll and flows that I sell
I smell some squares in the air
I’m finna tare, holla at cha
I’ll see ya player
It’s that turfinology, that
That gangsterology, that
That pimpinology
That’s my philosophy
It’s that turfinology, that
That gangsterology, that
That pimpinology
That’s my philosophy
Turfinology be the teachings of a soldier
Focus so ferocious trying to bubble up like Folgers
I bring hustlinology, my thug philosophy
Be to get all on 'em and smoke 'em
Leaving niggas with knocked knees
I do it like fiber optics
Seeking a spot to lock it
Cock the metal back and pop it
Trying to fill 'em all, four pockets
I gets, all up in 'em
Tougher than denim
Skin 'em, win 'em
I be thuggin' on this mic
New millennium Dolemite
I’m on your back like a jacket
To for nothing blacking
When choppers get to blapping
Nobody don’t know what happened
I get it racking and dome cracking
My middle be dome savage
And business, I’m gon' handle it
Figures I’m gon' snatch it
The ratchet and the machine, nigga
Fuck up the team, nigga
Get tossed and fucked off, fucking with these niggas
When ya speak up on me, the way we breathe on it
You niggas can get it the way you want it
It’s that turfinology, that
That gangsterology, that
That pimpinology
That’s my philosophy
It’s that turfinology, that
That gangsterology, that
That pimpinology
That’s my philosophy
Gangsterology that’s the teachings of a killer
Relation to the so you kill them niggas
Murderology, punkinology
Now I’m in some shit, a G I got to be
Cutthoat from the V, it’s the 3C down
It’s the Crest side crocodile, I bet you niggas know now
Click clack and blap blap, pull it then you die
See I’m a real Crest nigga I’mma multiply
Riding is an art and I mastered it
Blasting with a cannon, slanging caskets, bitch
Jack of all trades, a hand with all aces
Sick in the brain, cash register rapist
The getaway car got the dudes in the gas mask
Blamping with the mac, killing niggas like anthrax
So ask somebody what they know about Reek
I’mma be a G 'til I’m six feet deep