A Rapper's Reputation Lyrics - Mack Daddy - Sir Mixalot

I'm rollin' in a Nine-Oh van. California, that's my plan 

Got memories Mix-A-Lot left in limbo, first stop Sacremento 

Here we go, hit a club called Bentleys 

Want a skirt to git wit' me, hit me 

There's a girl with a back like a Cadillac 

I walked up and got pushed back 

Her boyfriend tell her I'm a play-a 

Dropped salt on a dope rhyme say-a 

My reputation offends this man 

Next day hit Williamland Park 

Creepin' like a shark 

Spot a bad freak and I swoop like a hawk 

"What up?", "Howya like to roll wit' a champ?" 

"Please! All ya'll rappers is tramps" 

My reputation is stoppin' my mission 

Every freak in Sac is dissin' 

Back on the four lane freeway 

Next stop, the two-one-three, L.A. 

The two-one-three is rough 

But the Mixalot game is tough 

Spot a young girl and I start that gamin' 

Baby girl asks what set am I claimin' 

"Just 'cause I rap, I gotta be in gang?" 

It ain't a black thang, it's a rap thang 

Censorship is sweepin' the nation 

Messin' up a rap stars reputation 

A rappers reputation, that's what I got 

So I'm finished with the two-one-three 

I knock, baby, but it's time to leave 

Two days on the hard rock, boys is cruisin' 

Interstate Ten, straight to Houston 

They tell me 'bout the girls in the fifth ward 

You know the boys must score 

So we hit a fly club called Guchies 

Lookin' for the skirts with the largest booties 

Girlies in the club wasn't takin' no shorts 

Showin' no remorse 

For a brother like Mix, lookin' for the smooth 

Didn't need a Houston skirt to get with me 

But the nights still young 

And the hunk ain't done 

So we stepped to the van 

Attitude's out of it 

The next club, The Main Event 

We never think about a dress code 

Just step up in the club and let the game roll 

But as soon as my boy Maharaji pulls up 

Some punk starts runnin' up 

He said you don't wanna be with a rap star 

They play you for your money and your car 

Well my boy got crushed but the girl stepped off 

With a rap stars rep, the girls are lost 

"Hey yo, what's up, this is Mix I had to make a run 

right quick, but leave your name and number 'n I'll 

getcha right back, peace." 

So the posse left Houston Texas 

All the girls keep callin' us sexist 

Houston media is givin' us rappers no pity 

So we all hit Kansas City 

In K.C. we go The Gates and Suns 

Gotta get grub 'fore we run 

Met a little freak named Stacy 

I said I'm not just here for the Barbecue baby 

She gave me that look, like Pebbles 

I'm acked with bass not treble 

So I say, Oogley-goo oogley-doo-goo-doo 

"What'd you say?" I ain't tellin' you 

You see the Mix game is laced with riddles 

It ain't moaney, it's Mix in the middle 

In walked my ex named Wendy 

She got a fresh Dooney Bag 

'Cause she's tired of Fendi 

Oooh, could a brother be busted 

Because Wendy trusted, Me? 

An' ah told a lit'l lie 'n 

Said I was a loyal guy 

Wendy got mad and she wants to dis me 

In Kansas City 

Wendy starts to groovin' 

Hands on her hips and her hair starts movin' 

She said the Mix-A-Lot game is phony 

Just 'cause I said I'm runnin' girls like ponies 

But talkin' that stuff is my occupation 

That's how I got this reputation