Lyrics Int'l Players Anthem - Three 6 Mafia , UGK
Hypnotize
Minds,
UGK!
Three
6 Mafia,
another
classic
baby
Put
some
South
in
your
mouth
It's
goin
down,
what!
Sweet
Jones
My
bitch
a
choosy
lover,
never
fuck
without
a
rubber
Never
in
the
sheets,
like
it
on
top
of
the
cover
Money
on
the
dresser,
drive
a
Compressor
Top
notch
hoes
get
the
most,
not
the
lesser
Trash
like
to
fuck
with
$40
in
the
club
Fuckin
up
the
game,
bitch
it
gets
no
love
She
be
cross
country,
givin
all
that
she
got
A
thousand
a
pop,
I'm
pullin
Bentleys
off
the
lot
I
smashed
up
the
gray
one,
bought
me
a
red
Every
time
we
hit
the
parkin
lot
we
turn
head
Some
hoes
wanna
choose
but
them
bitches
too
scary
Your
bitch
chose
me,
you
ain't
a
pimp,
you
a
fairy
Baby
you
been
rollin
solo,
time
to
get
down
with
the
team
The
grass
is
greener
on
that
other
side
if
you
know
what
I
mean
And
I
can
make
you
the
eighth
if
you
wanna
be
my
girl
(girl)
When
I
say
my
girl
I
don't
mean
my
woman,
that
ain't
my
style
Need
a
real
street
stalker
(stalker)
to
walk
a
green
mile
(mile)
We
pilin
up
the
paper
on
the
dinin
room
table
Cause
you
able
to
realize
I'm
the
truth
and
not
a
fable
(fable)
We
rock
the
freshest
sable,
keep
that
'chilla
on
the
rack
What
I
look
like
with
some
thousand
dollar
shit
up
on
my
back?
I'm
a
million
dollar
mack
that
need
a
billion
dollar
bitch
Put
my
pimpin
in
your
life,
watch
your
daddy
get
rich
Easy
as
A-B-C,
simple
as
1-2-3
Get
down
with
UGK,
Pimp
C,
B-U-N
B
Cause
what's
a
hoe
with
no
pimp?
And
what's
a
pimp
with
no
hoes?
Don't
be
a
lame,
you
know
the
game
and
how
it
goes
We
tryin
to
get
chose
Now
when
they
heard
who
in
the
club
DJ
Paul,
bitches
chosen
up
When
they
see
I'm
nice
and
like
a
slush,
then
they
frozen
up
Like
my
homie
Project
Pat
we
keep
them
cups
raising
up
Snizzle
fizzay
kiz-off
in
my
dollar,
gotta
nose
it
up
I
dial
drink
by
the
liters,
I'm
a
drinker
hoe
Before
you
doin
it
like
meeee
you's
a
thinker
hoe
What
you
thinkin
row?
Need
to
get
your
money
way
up
UGK
and
Three
6 Mafia
got
your
girl
creamed
up
I'm
still
trappin
in
hell,
my
pockets
are
swelled
The
number
one
D-boy,
Mr.
Fishscale
I
don't
fuck
around,
with
snitches
who
tell
Put
holes
in
your
brain,
leave
bodies
to
smell
A
mack
here
gettin
paid,
ain't
got
time
for
jail
I
paid
off
the
judges,
the
jury,
the
sheriff
You
know
it's
the
truth,
may
never
we'll
fail
I'm
still
+Sippin'
Syrup+,
slow
motion
like
snails
1 Something Good
2 Use Me Up
3 Short Texas
4 Pocket Full of Stones
5 It's Supposed to Bubble
6 Front, Back & Side to Side
7 Protect & Serve
8 I Left It Wet for You
9 One Day
10 Fuck My Car
11 Ridin' Dirty
12 Murder
13 Good Stuff
14 Take It Off
15 Let Me See It
16 Ain't That a Bitch (Ask Yourself)
17 Choppin' Blades
18 The Game Belongs to Me
19 Int'l Players Anthem (I Choose You)
20 Stop-n-Go
21 Da Game Been Good to Me
22 Int'l Players Anthem
23 Pocket Full of Stones (Pimp C Remix)
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