[Verse 3: Pimp C]
I don't give a fukk who you be!
You ain't bout to sell no fukkin dope in P.A.T
You could be Tony Montana in this bytch
Have a boatload of dope, but you still ain't selling shyt
'Cause we don't know your face so I don't really figure
We gon let you come up and sell dope in Texas nikka
See you don't understand, it's our muthafukkin cuts
So step in, like I said before, we'll take them muthafukkin nuts
Ask the last nikka brought his fukkin ass down
Trying to sell that fukkin dope he bought in H-Town
Couldn't sell in Houston, so I guess he figured
I'ma go to Port Arthur and run them fukkin nikkas
Brought his fukkin gun, guess he should've bust
So they took his shyt and put his dikk in the dust
Stupid ass nikka had the nerve to come back
Rolling on the cuts in his white Cadillac
Got to the block and the guns just exploded
Shot his car up with the 9, and the clip that he unloaded
Sent the nikka home to his momma like a hoe
They jacked all his money and they stole all his dope
Can't be trill in the villa of the trillest
'Cause where I'm from, nikka, has some muthafukkin killers
So have your shyt attached, before you come check us
Pimp C, bytch, P.A. home, Short Texas
