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the boss hog barbarians - you got mail lyrics

{aol sample stutters and slows down: “y-y-y-y-y-y-you’ve got mail!”}

[c.t.] bim bim
[zone] oh d-mn!
[c.t.] ha ha
[zone] this beat sound like some pimp sh-t
[zone] yo celph, you made this beat?!
[c.t.] d-mn straight
[zone] how come you didn’t tell me you could make sh-t like this man?
[c.t.] oh you ain’t know?
[c.t.] i got some sh-t for these hoes

[celph t-tled]
this b-tch better whip out a credit card to pay for this dinner
it’s her birthday and i ain’t got nuttin to give her
except this d-ck and directions to the front door
try to take my wallet and i’m lettin the gun pour
i’m from florida where them c-ckroaches be runnin rampant
yes i’m the dirty south lieutenant, motherf-cker god d-mnit
you want money i said no, act up and you dead ho
you wanna slurp? call me on my cell that’s my head-phone (b-tch)
f-ck chickenheads in the morning, give ’em the early bird special
and this relationship ain’t goin to the next level (nope!)
talk back and a b-tch’ll fall flat
cause i’m the type to beat a broad with a wiffleball bat
throw a bag over an ugly b-tch before i let my c-ck skeet
that’s what i call disguisin the hump, like i was shock g (hahaha)
your idea of eating out, is cl-t lips
mine is doggy bags and quick trips to popeye’s for biscuits
b-tch!

[hook: boss hog barbarians]
we just ballin gettin fetti everyday on the grind
the postman got mail for me
cause we all about our scratch, never savin a batch – b-tch
the postman got mail for me
only fur coats and gold chains, pimpin these hoes mayne
hogs up, hoes down, game recognize game
the postman got mail for me, b-tch
the postman got mail for me

[j-zone]
j-zone as a kid i was chubby, heh, as i got older i got skinny
only thing that ain’t changed i’m still ugly
but a b-tch’ll still love me (that’s right) even though i ain’t pretty
she be like, “his d-ck is still chubby!”
that b-tch bought me a rugby when my mink was in the shop
don’t kiss or hug me, wash my d-ck in the sink and i hop
we call your girl triple p paulette (why?)
take her to popeye’s, the parking lot, and port authority and then jet
go to dinner? not today, we just ran a train on her
and it bang louder than the a in far rockaway
i still live with my grandmoms and don’t have a job; it’s frightenin
cause all you punks wanna be just like him
i’m a loser and a herb in every sense of the word
but i don’t give a f-ck i’ll still get wit’cho bird
then i stuff her and roast her like it’s late november
then i duck that broke ho cause her friend looks better
ya b-tch!

[hook]

[j-zone]
celph t-tled made a pimped out beat for me to rock
and turn my nose up to broke sl-ts on my c-ck
“yo no tengo hay dinero,” you better change the subject
you speakin broken-ese and we from cut-a-check republic
south jamaica queens to tampa
our presence felt, every summer like cancers
we eat collard greens for breakfast
and keep sh-t greasy like soul train scramble board contestants

[celph t-tled]
me and your girl we ain’t talkin much but when we f-ck
i’m playin greatest hits from marky mark and the funky bunch
blow a b-tch to pieces, strap grenades on her back
now the way i’m gettin -ss, it just falls in my lap
i’m a +midnight marauder+, stick a q-tip in your p-ssy
that’s my +low end theory+, i’m at the player’s ball yearly
no you ain’t never been inside (nope) and i’mma get the mexicans
to f-ck up xzibit again if he don’t pimp my ride

[hook]

[j-zone]
hey yo, i got one question man
how come y’all sh-t don’t sound like this?
i mean, i’m sayin
this our.. i see you over there hatin man
f-ck you man
this sh-t is, yo celph this sh-t
yo celph you a beast for this, god d-mn!
yo man
i don’t understand man wh-ssup wh-ssup with these rappers
that ain’t got no f-ckin b-ss in they sh-t man
why why is that
you rappers is f-ckin allergic to b-ss man
i’m sick of hearin beats that ain’t got no b-ss man
this that boss hog sh-t man
type of sh-t to blow your alpines man
you don’t know nuttin about this man, god d-mn
that’s the sh-t you make that ugly gorilla face to man
but with me it comes easy i’m an ugly n-gga
but you know what, i don’t give a f-ck
cause i got b-ss in my sh-t
yo celph you got b-ss in this motherf-ckin beat man
this sh-t sound evil, oh my god~!
this is boss hog, stop bein jealous man
we make it look too easy
ay b-tch, p-ss my malibu and shut the f-ck up
don’t put no ice cubes in my sh-t
did i tell you, did i tell you i wanted c0ke in my malibu?
straight, i don’t
i don’t mix, c0ke and soda and all that sh-t with my
give me my sh-t straight
this is boss hog man
this ain’t no cosmopolitans man
what part of the game is that?
yo celph let’s get out of here and go count some more money man

[samples to close]
we take a b-tch up to snow and make her get out
b-tch get out! (in a g-string) knahmsayin?
if we like the ho, here take a shot of hennessy

- the boss hog barbarians lyrics

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