Jay Tee Follow

verse 1
hoes get chop, hoes get chop
hoes get chop, hoes get laxed
hoe get a donkey dick in your fast
and with no disgrace i keep my boost on lace
and make a bitch clean up the whole damn place
start in the kitchen do them dishes
taste these nuts hoe their so delicious
get the bathroom scrub them tubs
and dont even think about hitting the clubs
let your girlfriends go, they staying drunk
bitch i'm your daddy and your momma
baby beezy, baby bazy i got a weed joint and late commanche
going hard on the bitch is all i know
ask that boy dre and tony frank-o
wait no say hoe break that thang ho
i wish a bitch would ask me to be faithful
haha it ain't no chance
and i'm gonna keep doing the dumbest dance
haha it aint no chance
and i'm gonna keep doing the stupidest dance

(chorus)
chop that hoe man (break that chop)
break that beezy (chop that brick)
chop that hoe man (break that bitch)
break that beezy (man chop that hoe)
chop that hoe man (break that bitch)
break that beezy (man chop that hoe)
chop that hoe man (break that beezy)
break that beezy (man i toss these hoes)

verse 2
i wish i would make it bigger
i aint doing shit til you give me some head
or jack me off til my dick gets harder
so soon as i nut, gonna run my water
let a player soak while you go get greasy
i want ham and eggs over easy
bombay has some real shits great
dont try to ruin, theres no escape
last night you was real exciting
but now i'm kind of feeling uninvited
if you dont like it that i called you hoe
and put yak that was pitchin on 64
fuck rappers thats gonna get worse
so bitch give me everything in your purse
i want checkbook credit cards and scrill thats fresh
if she aint got no bread, i'm gonna kill the bitch
(chorus)

verse 3
once upon a starry night
he went to the lot and bought a car he liked
it was a-o-b, all on baby
twenties all around now he call'em 80s
i dont know no algebra
but i know how to get doe outta her
mac-a-matics, man calculate
just wait on a bitch she about to hate
belagio, venetian,
chinese, white, and balechian
carpet walkers, pocket stockers
fully hand guns and rocket launchers
cause pimpin aint nothing but a side job
when i aint doing nuttin nigga i mob
you can i-pod or mp3's
rub the lamp you might see the genie
(chorus)