Lead Yo Horse Lyrics - Sir Mixalot

[ CHORUS ] 

You can lead yo horse to water 

But you cannot make him drink 

I'm just tryin to spit some game 

So you might wanna stop and think (2x) 

[ VERSE 1: Malika ] 

Okay, 'Lik's gon' come anew for '9-6 

Lead yo ass to the aqua, but I can't make a brother rich 

You gotta go for self, and then help others 

Mama wasn't lyin when she put you up on game, brother 

All up in the house gettin loud and disrespectin 

'Lik steps in, regulatin and hoe-checkin 

All them makes wishes, ain't already tryin to sympathize 

Players stay paid all day, but yo ass stays broke and high 

Oh my, kids and stuff all over like some roller skates 

Still I keeps it on my pape and niggas be tryin to playa-hate 

But that'll get you rolled up sideways 

Whoever said crime pays never got 3 strikes in L.A. 

Makes you lonely, sayin, contributin to mines 

You could be hella fine, but ain't nobody spendin mines 

Mobbin with the Crowbar with some common sense 

You can stay hella bent, I be at the water stackin presidents 

[ CHORUS ] 

[ VERSE 2: Sir Mix-A-Lot ] 

One of these goddamn set-backs of havin your mail fat 

Is some of these lax-ass wanna-be macks, and you hoes in black 

They tracks sound booty, and they ain't doin they duty 

In the studio, and only if you knew me, though 

You'd see that I puts in work, and puts hurt 

On your flirts that wanna wear skirts and try to jerk 

But you'se in love with a fantasy, trick 

You wanna 'sit on yo ass, collect checks and shit' 

You was younger than me, so I schooled ya 

Gave you the tools to come up and get down like a ruler 

Took you to executive brunches, high-powered lunches 

Gave you dough in bunches 

So get your fried chicken and your watermelon 

Start the yellin, Mix-A-Lot is why you ain't sellin 

Old Uncle Tom nigga gettin mad 

But you know you never worked for the shit you had 

Start drinkin, bitch 

[ CHORUS ] 

Hey yo, 'Lik, fill in the blanks 

What's up with these would-be gold diggers chasin entertainer niggas 

Handin out sugar daddy contracts to big black macks in black pimp Caddies 

I mean excuse me for pimpin, but ah... 

[ VERSE 3: Malika ] 

Tryin to see a meal ticket like's they big goals 

Rollin fat hoops and rollin gizzy stashin big loads 

Jump your woman, but ain't handlin yo business 

County aid plea, check so small you can't buy bisquits 

Got you a family, still you all up in mines 

Fuckin off's the hot rule, but see, 'Lik gon' fit to be fine 

She ain't right, got her shorties runnin the streets with retardation 

Bein barely sleep, puttin on that sneaky dick in her 

Boys will be boys, that's how the game goes 

Ask Mix-A-Lot, they all hoes, and this player knows 

Better bumrush school and get your G.E.D. 

Cause welfare, homey, been cuttin back since '83 

Two carts ??? and still be tryin to front 

Use your diaper money to load up them philly blunts 

Get a 9 to 5, change your whole mindframe 

Cause doin without ain't what's happenin, put yourself up on game 

Kill or hustle, somethin, gotta drink the water, girl 

That's from a sister, 'broke' don't exist in Malika's world 

[ CHORUS ]