Lyrics Sir Mix-A-Lot

Sir Mix-A-Lot

Chief Boot Knocka

Chief boot knock

Chief boot knocker

Here I am chief boot knocker

Watch your skirt, if you don't I got ya

Tibbity toe, tibbity toe through the grass

Old scallous ass nigga with a pocket full of cash

Who that? rollin in a Viper

Got much beef with the freeway sni-per

He wants me cause I bumped his girlfriend

Your suicidal tendencies are not my problem

Low life DOG, chasin these skirts through the

motherfuckin fog

I'm that, black man with fourteen skirts in a black

Scadan

A fool named Draws in a seven six Kirk

Parked at the bench and left his girl on trays

Said get out the car bitch, that's a mistake

cause now I'm the beach with a rake

The whole beach is smellin like indo

I'm in a drop top Benzo on three piece rimzos

Cranked up the bass just a little bit

She turned to the left with the (*pause*)

"Mack Daddy" is back and Charles is mad (* 2 gunshots

*)

Show Charles what I had

Some niggaz is fine and some smooth talkers

But they can't fuck with the chief boot knocker

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my toma, tom, tomahawk

And I here them sing

Chief boot knocker ..

Chief boot knocker ..

Chief boot knocker

Scam, scam devise another plan

Take another girl from a cryin ass man

Always askin her where she's been

She was rollin with me from six through ten (yep)

Got home at ten thirty

You was smellin her neck, tryin to see if she's dirty

You want to beat her down, but you got no proof

Now you shootin buckshot through the roof (yep)

To much emotion, somebody rub this sissy boy down with

lotion

And now your tellin her to stay home

But she can still call Mix on the telephone

And there you go, slippin

You promised her another ass whippin

And you slap, slap, slap, now you feelin kinda macho

+I Got Game+ and I took your Benzo

What you gonna do with a cake boy's nightmare

Bought you a nine but you still looked scared

AK-47? nope

I run a HK-91 with the Leopold scope

So eat that 308, fool

Actin like a joke but Big Mack's rule

You had to inject but boy I shot ya

Meet your new enemy the chief boot knocker

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

I meet a girl named Gail at a soul food restaurant

Big fat rocks on her hand tryin flaunt

Tried to step to her in the hall

She said her ex-boyfriend plays pro football

But I hate quarterbacks, but I like throwback

on a young, fine brown skin snackpack

She got a black SL, it was sittin on 19's lookin all

swell

I really don't care about your boyfriend sweetness

Jealousy is every man's weakness

But I ain't no salt slinger, just a gang slinger

And oh yes it's the bird banger

I followed Gail to the crib

Walked in straight trippin off a how the girl lives

Your man is a trick and his game is whipped

I can pull you in a Benzo and a broke down jeep

Take notes off the shit I just wrote

Trick daddies get left in smoke

A lot of copycat niggaz might jack ya

But the game came way with the chief boot knocker

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Here's my tomahawk

Chief boot knocker

Chief boot knocker

Chief boot knocker

Ch, chief boot knocker