What you mean I'm gone man

You don't even know me

Well go ahead and get 'em up busta

Come on with it . . . Wahaa!



[chorus]

Y'all bustas just don't know

Y'all can't get with the Mix-A-Lot show

The man you love to hate ain't phased by the fakes

If you want to playa hate

Eat a big 'ole snake



[chorus #2: x4]

It's The Man You Love 2 Hate

The J.R. Ewing of Seattle



[Verse 1: Sir Mix-A-Lot]

Me and Kid Sensation with that home away from home

In the fat butt dulie with the painted out chrome

15's whippin' in the backside

With the boom boom boom thats how I ride

And Cha Ching I'm a player making ballas holla

I got a girl in Mississippi, but I never call her

Cause it's like that I still got game

I can memorize your number, but I still don't know your name

The conservatives are thinking I'm a pimp (I'm a pimp)

Just because I kind of stroll with a limp (With a limp)

But I still got love for the few who stayed down

But some of my ex's ain't around

Why is that ??

Cause the rock man got them and their butt's just dropped

They started losing weight

Their grill's looking shot

So I switched her

I'm steadily keepin' 'em mixed up

I'm keeping, down and holding my crown and giving them hiccupps

Boo-Hooing (Boo-Hooing)

When you call me

But we was playing on each other so you are wrong, see

Sitting around anti-nails

Your disputing my sales

Fantasizing 'bout counting my mail



[chorus # 2: x4]



[Verse 2: Sir Mix-A-Lot]

Lady listen, Do I really make your man that pissed ?? ( mmm-hmmm)

Flipped it around and tell your man like this (mmm-hmmm)

If you hate Mix, than why you talk about Mix ?

You say you ain't a trick, but you trippin' so she's splittin'

Now she's coming out to Mrs. Ponderosa

She drove a beater so I heard her getting closer

She got an old V-Dub (Volkswagen) with the damaged exaust

But she was fine, so I figured I could toss

And watch the 808 kick drum

Makes this girlie get dumb

She's grabbing on my bum tryin' to get one

And I'm taxing, waxing, I gotta take a note

Frrrtttt!!! Farted on the downstroke (ewwwwweeww)

Playa's in the house can you feel me

got these playahaters lookin' at me silly

But with this mouthpiece a brother's gotta win

The ladies say you are fine, but your mackin' is kind of thin

No more Broadway, I'm hollering Rainier

Swoop around blocks dropping windows yelling, "Come Here"

And you complain 'cause I mad a little change

Its all in the game, boy to hell with the fame



[Chorus #2: x4] [Then falls into Chorus #1 x1]



[Verse 3: Sir Mix-A-Lot]

I got my buck on them rolling down to Cali

I got a brand new home out in the valley

Jumping off  I-5

I crack a left-eye, got to pick my homey up the attitude adjuster

Seven in a jet black truck with a deaf black G-Lock in case we out of luck

Cause with these haters you gotta keep your strap

Cause we taking all their sugars now they tryin to take us back (Yep)

So you got your and I got mine, so why do you whine about my grind ??

Sitting around blaming Mix-a-Lot for your situation

Boy get a job and quit player hatin'

It ain't about winning your respect

I'm just checking more mail than you check

So heres the finger next to my index

I'm all about your lady

Cause she's all abou the sizex (sex) haha



[chorus #2: x4]



Yeah, the Pacific Time Zone's head honcho

The amigo force feed you soe of this bad ass ego

You know what I'm saying

Try going platinum suckas

Dos

Tres

Watch out for Cuatro, Motherfm [bleeped out]