Xzibit - Movin' In Your Chucks lyrics

(feat. Kurupt, Too $hort) Mov-mov-mov-mov-movin in your chucks [Too $hort] We come through extra whylin And y'all love it, who don't like s** & violence You got a camera phone, send a picture and a text Fiends want dough, tricks want s** b**hes want dick, pimps want a grip Motherf**ers wanna know, when you gon' slip Man you rich, you still kick it in the hood? Sellin coke, and f**in b**hes real good? Don't let 'em fool ya, these b**hes ain't innocent They'll change the game and make the gangsters start pimpin women He don't want her, she's just a decoy You've gotta use her, you know hoes love the d-boy So let 'em do ya, put them hookers to work You want to save the hoe, so he took her to church These b**hes slangin, lootin, hookin, recruitin Work the credit cards, stealin, cookin, shootin [Chorus: Too $hort - repeat 4X] To all my pimps (sli-sli-sli-slidin in your gators) And all my gangsters (gangsters movin-movin in your chucks) [$hort] Beotch! (Mov-mov-mov-mov-movin in your chucks) [Kurupt] Have you ever seen fluent flow.. Well this is how you do it though.. Man I don't give a f**.. f** it, how I ride slide in the bucket Trip, I told this n***a to hold his b**h Come equipped but don't trip, n***a mold his b**h The b**h bomb, I think he in posession of mine Cause the b**h is tryin to put my dick on top of her mind I'm too G'd up to play games with bustaz Got somethin to start trippin n***az lanes and bustin I'm Gotti motherf**er, Chucks and T's Nickels and semi-automatic ninas and beams I don't really give a f** about your hood my n***a I'm just tryin to make all bad good my n***a Got gators for the pimpin, Chucks on the daily I ain't trippin off these busta n***az b**hes gotta pay me [Chorus] [$hort] Yeah beotch! [Xzibit] Always poppin that sh** like you want to But you don't say a f**in thing when I come through (beotch!) I call the shot and somebody gon' touch you But you ain't even half a f*g, n***a f** you (ya beotch!) Always talkin 'bout what a n***a gon' do But you a hoe so nobody don't believe you (yeah beotch!) Lightin it up for the world to see The return of Mr. X to the Z, damn To my n***az in them Cadillacs, swingin that battle axe A million dollars every 90 days, imagine that My habitat is black, ramsacked with heavy gats Hit a n***a so hard that his head gon' touch his back Dog set it off, motherf** them haters I keep on pimpin for my paper in my now or later {gators} Made my mark for my spark, terror tear you apart You better have you some heart, comin out here after dark If you gon' start you must finish, n***a handle yo' business Because you spoke like a menace you got sent off to the dentist I don't be goin back and forth like, full court tennis We gon' handle what we gon' handle, have you walkin in sandals In a hospital robe, back of yo' body exposed I stay in militant mode, I staple holes to your clothes Because it's one for the hustle, two for transition For my brothers in position still cookin in the kitchen [Chorus - 2X] [$hort] Beotch! (Mov-mov-mov-mov-movin in your chucks)