UGK Something Good [Extended Version] Lyrics

Song: Something Good (Extended Version)
Artist: UGK (Pimp C & Bun B)
Album: Too Hard to Swallow

Pimp C:
One wit' a trigger, two wit' a bat,
Three big brothers, fo'...
Wanna squab with me?
So, I guess a brother gotta throw.
Tell 'em like this,
"Ya bettah get up out my camp, dude,
Be-fore I have to pull my gat and get real rude."
I don't figure that it's worth gettin' hurt,
Jus' cuz ya gal wanna gimmie that skirt.
Bet it feel funny when ya doin' 69,
Knowin' that ya sippin' on all my jimmy wine;
And, when ya get a kiss, do ya feel bad
Knowin' that ya swallowed on a skeeter that I had?
You wanna step to me but I don't really think you should.
I shoulda shot you up instead I told ya somethin' good.

Chorus:
Tell me something good, oh baby, baby, baby yeah
Tell me something good, oh yeah, yeah
Tell, Tell me something good, oh oh, tell me, tell me, tell me
Tell me something good, oh baby, baby, baby yeah

Bun B:
Hey, yo, what's up with that bulge in yo khakis?
You wanna pack a gat,
But you still ain't got the pull to come and jack me.
You bettah bring a gang-load a homies
When you think you wanna throw,
'Cause by yourself you run into the flo'.
I seen your kind before, man, you nothin' wit' yo hands:
More than a punk, but still less than a man.
You talk a lot of nothin'
When ya chillin' with the ladies.
Let me catch ya by yourself,
You're pushin' up some daisies.
See, crazy you wanna be,
But punks with no heart, they ain't hard,
They just waitin' for Bun to pull they card.
You bettah keep yo weak-self locked in ya hood,
'Cause wit'out yo boys,
I'ma have to tell you somethin' good.

Chorus:

Pimp C:
Brothers now-a-days got a habit
That they really need to stop:
Gettin' all shot over a girl that I done popped.
You need to check your girl,
And what she did in the past;
'Cause if you 'noid like me,
You would drop her real fast.
But I don't trust the dugout
'Cause I'm scared of that disease.
'Cause she's passin' out the skins like gov-ern-ment cheese.
But, not me, player, 'cause Pimp C wanna live.
Have you had your test,
Are you H-I pos-i-tive?
But, instead of gettin' checked,
You wanna fight with me.
You need to check your blood,
And let somebody take your seat.
But, if you don't step I'ma drop off ya f__s,
And pump off bullets like government can.
I didn't do your girl, but ya sister was alright.
Took her to my homeboy's Caddy last night;
She waxed my jimmy, and then the little street tramp
Did me on a box of tens, and a Pioneer amp.
I hit it from the back
And the girl just threw me,
Told me pump it harder,
And she scratched me on my boo-ty.
Now everybody in the world,
Know that your sister is a nasty little girl.

Chorus:
Tell me something good, oh baby, baby, baby yeah
Tell me something good

Bun B
Let's talk about these half-n-half punks:
By day they sorry b______s,
At night they talkin' 'bout poppin' trunks.
But a .25 can't keep you alive,
From a sawed-off, fool, so I hope you survive.
See, bluffin' might save ya tail one day,
But whose to say
They won't catch you next week on the runway?
You might shoot a few shots in the wind;
But the same time tomorrow you'll be runnin' again.
Now, can you keep it up every d___ night?
Ya steady runnin' to the argument,
But runnin' from the fight.
What's the deal, man, won't you take your Raiders cap off?
'Cause one of these days, you gonna get yo head slapped off.
You can't keep a crew
'Cause they gettin' sick of seein' ya bail
Like a punk that hit the backstreet trail.
And the women don't like you
'Cause you act like them.
And that's why yo little jimmy
Never went fo' a swim.
Ya talkin' 'bout slangin', makin' G's,
But I saw a fiend chase ya from BJ's upto Mickey D's.
Now, everyday punks get took
Either for they gold, they ride,
Or for the powder that they cook.
You're bookin' from the scene 'cause you couldn't hold ya own.
A 40-ounce bottle slammed you dead to your dome.
Now you want revenge so you git yo automatic:
Find a group of hard-heads,
And started kickin' static.
You pulled your little chrome,
But these fools got gats.
Tried to run and caught two buck shots in yo back.
Now you're nothin' but a memory that's gone in the slayin'
So, when I tell ya something good, punk, I don't be playin'.