Lyrics Where It’s At - Big K.R.I.T. , Cory "Mo"

I'd like to dedicate this song
To them old flea market outfit wearin' ass niggas man
I ain't ever seen you in no Cadillac
And I ain't never seen you with a bad bitch man
Gone with all the bullshit, get up off the booboo man
If the pimp was here right now, he would expose you
You say you swinging on 40's well where yo 'lac
You say you got all the hoes well where they at
You said you stackin' that bread
Yea bitch I heard what you said
Don't talk about it, be about it, where it's at
You said you packin' that iron, nigga why you lyin'
She ain't gonna let you get it pimpin' it stop tryin'
You said yo' stackin' that cash we not believin' yo ass
Don't talk about it, be about it, where it's at
I'm sick and tired of niggas lyin' about the shit that they do
But don't get it twisted those bitches be ridiculous too
That's why I hustle by my lonely speakin' only the truth
If the profit margin ain't large enough, I'm chunkin' the deuce
Show some respect, stop talkin' out the side of you neck
You say you ballin' why you stallin' then? cut me my check
All you do is fabricate the truth with special effects
You need to take them monkey diamonds off you neck and you wrists
Ya bitch
Yeah you talk a good game but it ain't no truth in it
If it ain't no proof then it ain't no use for you to claim that you pimpin'
You violatin' codes
(One) gain a soul not told
(Two) separate friends from foes
(Three) never put trust in hoes
(Four) what all glitters ain't gold
Bars and seven they sold
Still ain't sellin no records, you so irrelevant bro
You speak about it but nobody never seen it though
Difference between us, I don't say it if I don't mean it ho
Hey now for starters I ain't fuckin' with no frauds
Came in houses in old schools in they garages
Like every bitch that they done fuck was dying for minajes [?]
It's all make believe these niggas lookin' like mirages
Bank account margin ain't equivelant to starvin'
Niggas in the club tryin' to floss, can't pay they mortgage
Actin' like he boss catchin' flights and takin' off
Wouldn't bust a grape front like he might break you off
Shit now Hol' up, I ain't trippin'
Keep it real if you'se a poor pimp
Some of ya'll niggas so simp
You'd rather trick than buy more shrimp
Or rather blow up like four blimps
Get my gators slam my dough
Ball in my paint with a cup full of dre
Do what you ain't and break these hoes
Pull up, hop out so clean, talkin' diamonds and wood
Do it bigger than big, know you can't but you should
Know you would if you could
I'll just stay in the facts
Don't talk about it, be about it, where it's at