THE BOSS HOG BARBARIANS - Hog Luv lyrics

[J-Zone (female):]

(Hey daddy!) Hey beitch

(I wanna be your BITCH. How can I qualify?)

I mean, it takes a real special kind of lady

to be with a Boss Hog, y'knahmsayin? I mean

You just can't be any girl to be a Hogette

You gotta be that kind of girl you can take home

and show your grandmother, y'knahmsayin? I mean

You know what? I'm-I'ma tell you

I'ma tell you what kind of girl you need to be

Check it out, heh

I need a girl with extensions in her hair

Or she can be baldheaded, shit I don't care!

A crazy nag with a bad attitude

That's all I need to put me in a good mood

She beat her kids with a switch and joined the street gang

Start shit with other girls when they try to run game

Standin at the bus stop, waitin for the Q3

Settin metal detectors with her bootleg jewelry

Or a rich bitch from Long Isle' that actin like Hilary Banks

High as the national debt, straight whylin

Bougie, yet she drinks 40's of brew

A Yale graduate, yet she snorted all of her room

Used to search for a regular girl like a ass

But you got nuttin to lose when yo' hoe is low class

Faith beat up her pops for sport, Jan's a klepto

She can steal a 747 out an airport

My new broad is neurotic with a slight mustache

But somethin 'bout the crazy bitch won't let me quit her

She went trick-or-treatin with her kids to rob the homeowners

God damn nigga, maybe you should reconsider!

Maaan fuck that, I got no love with the wife type

I never met one, so I stick to the trife type

Got fo' kids, low class, but I can spank her

And got a trackin device, strapped to her ankle

So she ain't in the club, flirtin with Pharrell

She's home by eight o'clock cause she don't wanna go to jail

Met a Adrian Balboa bookworm type

But on the low a coke sniffin snow blower had to let her go

A grimy Far Rockaway thugmatic bitch

Suburban-ass soccer mom drug addict bitch

Every girl I date seems to be a nutcase

And I'm the only dude that never been to jail the slut dates

Lisa, Angela, Pamela, Robin

I don't need 'em, them hoes got problems

But I can't stay away, but if they ever need a place to stay

Stay the fuck from around my way, ya crazy bitch!

[Chorus: Boss Hog Barbarians]

Somethin about you - makes me wanna make you my wife

But bitch you trife and baldheaded with no job

Callin all hoodrats and psychos

They always wanna fight hoes

Drunk, high, about to do a bid

You wanna be a singer and you got four kids

Bitch you crazy, I should quit'cha

Aww fuck it, I'ma stay wit'cha

[Celph Titled:]

Silky, filthy, her gold teeth like sunshine

That's why I had to dedicate at least one room

To all them gangsta bitches from the neighborhood

Cause I'm the one to fuck you like no other brother would

Type to go to Burger King, splurge on some onion rings

Purple eyeliner, earrings the size of onion rings

These are things I like in my girls, I ain't playin

They the ones from junior high, skippin class, misbehavin

Gettin fucked in the stairwell, pregnant at 14

Runnin drugs back and forth in projects at Fort Greene

Asked if she could use a gun - she said, "Which one?"

I said the M-249 she said, "Yeah that's that shit son~!"

Keep her pussy clean but bitch grimy as hell

If cops find out she sell she'll be confined to a cell

She don't write no love letters, she snuffin them thug heffers

DipSet and D-Block, she only listen to thug records

Perm in your hair or even a curly weave

Buck fifty scar across the face as cute as can be

I need a bitch that's a rider that's the one for me

But she ain't gettin out of jail 'til I'm a hundred and three

And really most of y'all dudes is too soft for these broads

Offerin cards and candy, asian nails and massage

But I just pull out the garage in a hooptie, ready for action

For girls with tats on they breasts that read "Thug Passion"

[Chorus]

[J-Zone:]

Man fuck that, this is dedicated

to all my flaky, psychotic, drama queen ex-bitches

Doin time for stealin blank checks

Got enough kids to start a fuckin Pop Warner team

Doin more drugs than the cast of Different Strokes

Jealous ex-boyfriend havin rap groupie tramp punk hoe

Stop callin me, don't e-mail me, don't come to my shows

Kill that I love you talk cause love went out with the Reebok pump

I got nuttin for y'all but a case full of Bitch-B-Gon

and a can full of Hoe Repellant, abra-cadabra BITCH DISSAPEAR!