Burn Rubber
Lyrics
Inside beotch
Yeah you know about that
Real players
The real ones
full lyrics...
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Features Of This Song
hardcore rap influence
west coast rap roots
club rap influences
gangsta rap influence
electronica influences
funk influences
danceable beats
syncopated beats
funk beats
consistent rhyme patterns
vocal samples
extensive use of vocal samples
clear pronunciation
sexist lyrics
pimpin' lyrics
explicit lyrics
lyrics with heavy erotic content
boastin' lyrics
a repetitive song structure
backbeat handclaps

These are just a few of the hundreds of attributes cataloged for this song by the Music Genome Project.
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This Song Also Appears on These Albums
You just wannabe noticed so you're out there sluttin'
I won't fuck witchu, so don't fuck with me
'Cause he look like he lost
You need some toilet paper, don't shit on yourself
Steal his watch, and make sure he got a drop, beotch
Bring him back, and dig in his pockets quick
But she don't give me no cash, I'll pass it back
You worse than a studio gangsta
Climb down the chimney, and give 'em all somethin'
Publisher: SONGS OF TVT
It's just like when disco, killed the funk
So don't stop 'til your panties drop
You hit your girls house, one by one
Tell it like Short, no ass, no pass
How many porn stars you know that went to Crenshaw High?
Songwriters: Robert Arthur Ford, James B Moore, Harry Palmer, Todd Anthony Shaw, Russell W Simmons, Jonathan H Smith, Lawrence Smith
You in love? Might make you lose your mind
They tryin' to give the rap game to some real punks
You better tell him what it cost, get his mind on track
Bringin' back all C-notes and no fifties
The real ones
With no discretion, to me you're so depressin'
Take your ass straight on out, of Sin City
Wearin' all pink just like Hello Kitty
Actin' like you don't know, my profession
Can't tell me nothin', when I know I'm right
I look at all the young hoes trippin'
Fuck the mayor, the preacher, and a cop
When you see me rollin' in luxury
All you Santa Claus players, be on your way
That's why I run these gray girls, two at a time
I burn rubber on you quick as hell
When niggaz get jealous, somebody get shot
A lot of fuckin' for a whole lot of nuttin'
In the plastic sack, when she crash the 'llac punk bitch
I'm just ridin', sidin', whippin' and dippin'
[Incomprehensible]
I never really cared about popular fame
Yeah you know about that
You suckers disrespect the game
Real players
Behind closed doors, gettin' his booty hole spanked up
Talkin' 'bout how you pimpin' givin' hoes what they wantin'
I look at them thighs, and look at them titties
[Incomprehensible]
It's all about sittin' on top of the game
[Incomprehensible]
You love it when they make that, ass clap
Like a bowlegged bitch with a overbite, that suck it right
You trick, don't come around me frontin'
Burn rubber as you smash all fast
Player this pimp don't lie
With a bag full of toys on the back of your sleigh
I kick her where she stash the crack
All these video hoes out there spittin' your name
It's no big deal when little hotties get hot
Burnin' rubber on these bitches, so fast
Inside beotch