Seattle Ain't Bullshittin' Lyrics - Sir Mixalot

Yo Attitude, talk to me 

We got some bustin ass marks out here 

Claimin some motherfuckin place they ain't never seen 

Huh, sellout 

Boy this is the S-E-A-T-O-W-N, clown 

Forever, Seatown 

Yeah, and that's from the motherfuckin' heart 

So if you ain't down witcha hometown, step off punk 

Mix, tell these fakes what the deal is 

I was raised in the S-E-A-double T-L-E 

Seattle, born in the C.D. nigga 

19Th and yes LeBorda, pimpin was hard 

Caddillac was the car I wanted 

And I got that seven-seven Coupe with the trues and straps 

I couldn't roll no hubcaps, huh, it wasn't easy 

Tryin to compete, with my homies in the C.D 

Here's my plan, funky-ass sedan 

Laid down with the vogues, money in my hand 

Hair all whipped up 

Carload full of freaks with the butts 

I used to cruise around Seward Park 

Flip the funky eighty-one, and La Vista 

Lookin for freaks to be G'd 

Most mini-skirts wanted please 

In them days boy you had to be pimpin 

Just to keep motherfuckers from trippin 

Now punks wanna run up pokin 

With a nine double-M, is you jokin? 

Cause I'm packin a HK-91 son 

308'S is what I run 

A lot of clowns tried to take this town but they didn't 

Huh, cause Seattle wasn't bullshittin 

It ain't nothin but the real up in the Northwest, real deal nigga 

So don't step to the 2-oh-6 tryin to kick up dust 

Or you might get floored, sucka, get fucked up, think about it 

This is from the Attitude Adjustor 

Do we got gangs? Hell yeah, brothers gotta get paid 

Mickey D's ain't payin no way 

So they take to the streets with gats 

And they'll put 'em on ya just like that 

So I'm undercover, when I'm rollin through the C.D 

A lot of niggaz wanna get me 

I see a freak in front of Garfield, I swoop around the block 

Gang of niggaz yellin out, 'Fuck Mix-A-Lot!' 

Do I hate 'em? Naw, I gotta love 'em 

They think my head is big, and I'm tryin to be above 'em 

Huh, but to the masses I'm just another coon 

Gettin paid for a little bit of boon 

So even though a lot of niggaz talk shit 

I'm still down for the Northwest when I hit 

The stage, anywhere U.S.A 

I give Seattle and Tacoma much play 

So here's a shot to the Criminal Nation 

And the young brother Kid Sensation 

I can't forget Maharaji and the Attitude Adjustor 

And the hardcore brothers to the West of Seattle 

Yeah, Westside 

High Pointe, dippin fo'-do' rides 

And my homeboy Critical Mass in the back 

With the bat to smack back all packs who try to jack me 

Just because I'm in a S-E-C 

Droptop A-M-G 

The cops say Mix-A-Lot's a dope dealer 

But I'm more like a dope deal sealer 

I sell rap deals, not drug deals 

Handin out contracts like meals 

The Rhyme Cartel, I own the motherfuckin label 

And Ricardo got the papers on the table 

And I'm signin 'em, just like that 

No sluts so my pockets stay fat 

A lot of clowns tried to take this town but they didn't 

Huh, cause Seattle wasn't bullshittin 

Huh, nigga this is my town, what you talkin 

Punks tryin to tell me where I come from 

Who the fuck you talkin to, clown? 

Need to shut the hell up, Seattle Tacoma strong 

Shit, you was a young lil' rudy poot motherfucker 

'Fore you picked up a nine millimete 

Who you smokin? 

Punk-ass, cake, faggot ass nigga 

Let's take a trip to the South end, we go West 

Hit Reinert Ave and bust left 

I'm in a funky-ass Porsche Gambala 

No bitches, just women on my collar 

S-E-A-T-O-W-N 

Yo' nigga is back again 

Huh, who you callin sellout fool? 

I was puttin caps in clowns when you was still in school 

But I choose not to talk about that 

So many gangsta crews now, I'd rather kick back 

So I drop my own style 

Fuck bitin somebody else, and jumpin on a pile 

But that's another subject, gettin back to the hood 

Me and my boys is up to no good 

A big line of cars, rollin deep through the South End 

Made a left on Henderson 

Clowns talkin shit in the Southshore parkin lot 

Critical Mass is beggin to box 

But we keep on goin because down the streets 

A bunch of freaks in front of Reinert Beach, was lookin at US 

They missed that bus, and they figured that they could trust us 

Six cars in a line and the girls was fine 

I had 'The Wicked One' playin on my Alpine 

Two Porsches, two Benzes, a Ferrari Testarossa 

And a Rolls Royce roaster 

Miami Vice tried to get with this, but they didn't 

Huh-huh, cause Seattle ain't bullshittin 

Yeah I wanna whassup to my DJ Punish? 

My boy Strange, across the water whassup LX? 

Bookie, Mark P, MC Fury 

The Group EQ, old forty ounce drinkin A.D 

Always Dangerous 

PD2, Tribe, E.C.P. ready and willin 

Nasty Ness and Glen Boyd 

P.O.S., Brothers of the Same Mind 

L.S.R., High Performance 

Whassup Eightball? Kazzy D, Villains in Black 

J-1, E-Dawg, my boy T-Mack 

P.L.B., MC Kash 

My boy with the hookup on the 'zoid freak coordinator 

Bubba, DJ Skill and my boy AR-10 

Everybody in Seatown and T-Town